


5 People Who Noticed Rick Was in Love With That Asshole + The One Time He Noticed it Himself

by negickapologist (neganstonguething)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 5+1, Alternate Universe, Comic Spoilers, Eventual Smut, M/M, Short, Slow at First, based on roleplays with my friend, especially in the last chapter, here's negan spoilers, how does one tag things, less murderous negan, no zombies, not a plot heavy work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganstonguething/pseuds/negickapologist
Summary: In which the residents of a small town in Georgia provide some outside perspective on what the hell is going on between Rick and Negan, until Rick figures his shit out.





	1. Tara

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm insanely nervous to post this fic. Why? I honestly don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have started with a non-canon setting or something, haha.
> 
> This work is more an attempt at getting back into writing than anything. I've got more serious plots in mind, but I suppose we'll just have to see how this one takes off. It's heavily inspired by a series of roleplays a good friend and I have been doing, because we're absolutely in love with the concept of a no-zombie AU. 
> 
> It's a little slow at first, because I wanted to start on the outside and just sort of circle my way in. So people less directly connected to Rick go first! 
> 
> Anywho, enough of my rambling. Hope y'all can enjoy this lighthearted little thing. c:

The first time Tara sees it, she has to do a double-take.

It's at a barbecue she and Denise have thrown for everyone. Okay, more a housewarming party the two women have decided to host after finally getting to move into their dream house together. They both want to set it off with a big bang, so they've invited everyone they can think of. For Denise, it's friends and coworkers, and for Tara, it's not much different, save for Rick. She works in processing at the police station the next town over, and Rick has brought people into the station before, so she also sort of considers him a coworker.

Rick's a widower, and Tara's the type of person who would rather have a few best friends than a whole army of acquaintances, so all those years ago, when Lori had passed away, she had had all the time in the world to spend helping Rick cope with his loss. It had started out with how Rick had come in looking particularly downtrodden compared to the last time she had seen him, and after she had voiced this fact, the rest was history. She had learned in the process that Rick had a huge support system of people who cared deeply for him, and eventually, his friends had become hers.

Hence, the massive list of people she's invited, piled atop Denise's list, and that doesn't even cover the people who have brought along extras. Rick's got the teenage Carl and two-year-old Judith, and another guy Tara only knows to be the high school's baseball coach by what Denise had told her when he and Rick and the kids had initially shown up. From what she's heard, the dude's a real pill to be around, but at a distance, he doesn't seem too bad. Judith sure seems to like him, as it's his hand she clutches as they walk around the yard, and his arms she all-but jumps into when Abraham greets her. Tara has to laugh, because Abraham's actually a really big softie, but Judith apparently has yet to learn that. Either way, Rick seems to pay Judith's behavior toward the coach no mind, so she assumes the guy's been around a lot.

Among the other guests are Carol, Morgan, Maggie, Glenn, Rosita, Abraham, Hershel, Daryl, Beth, and more people than Tara can list off the top of her head right now. She can, however, take pride in the fact that their yard is plenty big enough to support the group of people she and Denise have invited, plus all their plus-ones and plus-twos and plus-twelves. Adults and children and dogs alike are running about the yard, picking food off of long outdoor tables with blue and white plaid table covers. Enid grabs two sodas and tosses one to Carl, and the two of them disappear off toward the handful of trees closer to the house.

This is why Tara has decided against moving to the city. Sure, it's closer to her job, and the commute from there to here is easier for Denise than the trip from here to there is for Tara, but they have both had their eyes on this house since before they'd gotten together. Denise is a therapist, though in small-town Georgia, she makes a little less than she would in the big city. But there's something about still having to save for the big place that's exciting. Tara made a point to contribute as much as she could, even though her salary is far lower than her girlfriend's, and now that they've finally got it, they couldn't be happier.

It kind of looks like one of the houses that would appear in scary movies or shows about the paranormal. A huge yard with a long-ish driveway that leads to a fancy porch with its own roof. Two big double-doors open into a massively old, super creaky home and inside are more bedrooms than Denise and Tara will ever actually need. But that's part of the appeal to them. The squeaky stairs and drafty rooms promise work to be done, and neither of them will deny that they like the somewhat spooky aspect too. Not to mention the different designs they can gradually come up with for each bedroom. So far, it's been a fucking blast.

The coach and Rick have gone their separate ways, said coach with Judith in tow. Carl and Enid are high up in the trees, drinking soda and doing god-knows-what-the-hell-else, so it's just Rick that Tara sees approaching, and when he throws an arm around her shoulders in a side-hug, she's quick to oblige with a hand around his waist.

“So this is it, huh?” Rick questions as he pulls away, nodding off in the not-quite-distance to the house she and Denise recently purchased. “This is the one you've had your eye on all this time?”

“Yep.” Tara responds sheepishly as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans and rocks forward onto the balls of her feet. “Some dream house, huh? Denise and I have really big plans for it.”

“Yeah?” Rick answers, sporting a playful smile. “Like for Halloween, or what?”

“You shut it.” Tara bites back. Her tongue juts out almost childishly. “If you want me to scare your son right out of his pants and off into the sunset, I can definitely manage that around Halloween, but there's...a lot of work this house needs. That means projects that Denise and I can do together.” She looks down, sounding almost shy. She's never been good at relationships—frankly, she's still surprised that Denise had picked up on her crush on her so long ago—and apparently, talking about them is just as challenging. “We don't get a lot of time, you know, with our shifts being so different and the commute and all...”

“I get it, trust me.” Rick nods, and when Tara looks up, she can tell by looking at him that he's remembering his wife. Lori had been a stay-at-home mom, but Rick had been forced to take long shifts more often than not. Tara remembers one particularly alcohol-heavy night, wherein Rick had told her that the long work nights had created something of a rift between the two spouses preceding Lori's death. Tara isn't the type to use people as examples of what could go wrong in any given situation, but she knows Rick doesn't want to see the same thing happen between herself and Denise, which is probably why he's brought it up today in the first place. “You two are takin' a big step here, buyin' a house. I'm proud of you.”

Tara scoffs. “Did you just Dad me?” As Denise approaches, Tara motions to Rick, an expression of mocked impatience on her face. “I'm pretty sure this guy just Dadded me. Like, all the way—told me he was proud of me.”

“I heard.” Denise responds around her own laughter. “You could use a Dadding or two, if you ask me.”

“You heard the girl.” Rick's smiling playfully, before he reaches a hand out to shake Denise's. “Congratulations. You're really gonna shine here in your new place.”

Tara is in the process of opening her mouth to speak again when a deep voice cuts her short. She glances back at Rick just in time to see the much-larger guy she had seen earlier—that coach—move to stand next to him. He hefts one arm up and curls it around Rick's shoulders. Rick grunts and shoves him back, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“There you are.” The coach looks unaffected by being pushed away.

Rick glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Where's Judith?”

“The pregnant girl married to the Asian pizza guy has her.” He answers simply. “But Jesus _shit,_ Rick—did you see this place has a fucking pool? Why, I gotta know, are more people not swimming?”

The first thing Tara notices is how loud this guy is. The profanity doesn't come to her as a complete surprise, mostly because of Denise's introduction from before, but she can tell that this man wears his opinion on his forehead in flashing letters, and if he could bold, italicize, and underline that shit, he probably would.

“That's my fault.” Denise responds almost nervously, offering out a hand to the loudmouth. As his large hand shakes her much smaller one, she continues, “we've got almost everything else in order here, but the pool's got to be cleaned and filled, and there's probably a whole handful of maintenance aside from all that to be done. Sorry.”

The coach is apparently impervious to her anxious laughter, because without missing a beat, he's quipping back, “As you should be. Do you know how many half-naked women you'd be seeing right now, all lined around that pool, exchanging sunblock and drinking margaritas together? Opportunity fucking missed, girlfriend. Right out the window.” He follows his lecture up with a long whistle that drops in pitch, as if imitating the sound of something being thrown, well, out the window.

When Denise had explained that this guy was a loudmouth and an asshole, Tara had assumed she had been exaggerating, but she now knows her assumption's flat-out wrong. This dude has no restraint, and it's almost difficult to even feel offended by it, just by the sheer nerve of it all. If anything, she's dumbfounded, and a quick glance in her girlfriend's direction tells her Denise is responding exactly the same way.

“Negan.” Rick chides from his side of the conversation. Tara notices with some level of amusement that he almost looks like the father of a child who's been called into the principal's office. How is he going to get this kid into line now? Has he no limit? It actually makes her feel better to picture the aforementioned Negan pouting like a scolded high-schooler. Three days of suspension for you, fool. Never diss one's girlfriend for her pool-related choices again. Don't want to be held back another year and all that jazz...

Her train of thought is halted when Negan speaks out again. “Put your claws back in, Rick. It was just advice—no harm in that shit. Just trying to do a girl some good.”

Denise laughs again, and it's clear by the look on her face that she isn't sure how to take this guy. Frankly, neither is Tara.

“The party's _fine_.” And that's when Tara sees it. Rick's got this look on his face that is actually a _whole helluva lot of looks_ all bottled up into one. As he meets Negan's gaze, his eyebrows furrow and his eyes lock directly onto the taller man's, like some sort of homing device. It's like he's begging for him to behave, irritated that he's _not_ behaving, and wishing that Negan would let everyone else see something in there that apparently _he_ sees. Like he wants everyone around him to enjoy his presence, because Rick actually wants to have him around the people he likes.

Tara doesn't understand _why_ , but she supposes it isn't really fair to try and judge this guy's character, even if he seems to sport it right there on his shoulder like it's nothing.

It doesn't stop there—it's like Tara's watching a fucking snake charmer or some shit. Even Negan's charismatic, obnoxious personality can't bring him to look away from Rick. There's a tiny cock in Rick's head, and Negan follows, like they're silently conversing with one another. Tara honestly thinks that things are about to turn into the gay equivalent of a Nicholas Sparks novel, where the two main characters, one a widower with a broken heart, are so unlikely and yet so perfect for one another that it all works out in the end. And this must be the kiss.

But just as soon as it starts, it stops. And whatever Rick has done actually _works_ , and Negan brings his focus back to the girls.

“Yeah, no, he's got a point.” Negan finally speaks up. “You got some fan-fucking-tastic burgers across the way that I'm gonna go proceed to stuff into my face hole—pleasure, ladies.”

“Uhh...” Is all Tara can manage.

“That's my signal.” Rick cuts in, waving his buddy along with him. “C'mon, Negan.”

Negan laughs. “Don't have to tell me twice.”

And then the two women are left in silence again, feeling like a tornado has just blown past. In fact, Tara's starting to wonder if her hair's been all mussed up by it. It's Denise who speaks up first.

“...I'm confused.” She starts, as they both continue to follow the two men with their stares. “So I told you that was the asshole coach I've heard about, right?”

“Yeah.” Tara swallows.

“I've had appointments with kids and parents alike who love to tell me how much of a dick that guy is.”

“Don't doubt it—not one bit.” Tara answers, her voice almost robotic.

“But did you _see that?_ With Rick?”

“...Uh-huh.”

And as if to prove their point, the now-distant Negan slides his arm around Rick's shoulders once more, and Rick doesn't push him back. They just enjoy their burgers and continue chortling along with whatever conversation they've suddenly engaged in with Hershel and his plus one, Otis. Tara notices with some amusement that Hershel doesn't seem to be too crazy about Negan.

In the end, Tara figures Rick can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. Whether or not Negan lives up to the picture this small town has painted him out to be, it's Rick's life. But Tara also knows Rick is perceptive and strong-willed, and if Negan had pissed him off too much, he'd have already ushered him right the fuck out of his life. So it goes without saying that she finds it difficult to swallow down the rampant curiosity working its way into her system.

Sure, Negan's charismatic, but what's he got that Rick can't seem to part with?

“Soda?” Denise offers, and Tara just nods and follows her girlfriend's lead.

 


	2. Maggie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie and Glenn keep the kids while Rick is at work, and a storm rages, so they spend the night. The next morning, Rick shows up to retrieve them with a certain leather-jacket-wearing douche canoe at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're trucking right along here. Provided things work out the way I want them to, I'm shooting for one chapter a day. They're short chapters, so this shouldn't be too hard to manage.
> 
> This time, it's Maggie's turn. I hope this one is as enjoyable to y'all as the other one seemed to be!

The tornado warning doesn't come with sirens, which Maggie takes some comfort in. She and Glenn are poised at the big window in their living room, a petrified Judith clutched in Maggie's arms. Her little arms and legs are wrapped tightly around the woman, and she thanks her lucky stars that she's not pregnant enough for her belly to get into the way of Judith's hold on her. Lightning flashes, illuminating the streets and trees and the way the wind is propelling the rain sideways, taking leaves and small branches in its wake.

As thunder claps, Judith whimpers and buries her tear-streaked face in Maggie's chest. “Shh...It's okay, baby...it's just a little thunder.” Maggie coos.

“Maybe we should go to the basement.” Glenn thinks aloud, gaze never leaving the storm outside.

Carl shakes his head from his spot on the couch. Even though the power has gone out, he's unaffected, preoccupying himself with the game on his phone. With the glow from the phone screen illuminating his calm expression, he explains, “It's not that big of a deal. A tornado warning just means that the conditions are right for one—not that it's actually gonna happen. Besides, what if Dad shows up while we're down there?”

“That doesn't mean we shouldn't be ready, though.” Glenn's voice is more matter-of-fact than argumentative. “I'm sure your dad wouldn't want us up here waiting for something to tear us up just in case he gets here.”

Usually, it's not Glenn and Maggie who watch Carl and Judith while Rick is at work. Most times, Rick leaves Judith with Carl at their home, but if he knows he's going to be particularly late, he sends them over to Carol's, or here. He's tried to offer up payment to both parties, but neither seem to mind. Maggie always tells him he can make it up to her by watching their baby every now and then after it's born.

“Do you think Rick's comin'?” Maggie questions, earning another whine from Judith. “Looks awful bad out there...”

“Daddy...” She cries weakly, voice muffled into Maggie's shirt. “I want Daddy...”

“I dunno.” Glenn sighs, before he withdraws his phone from his pocket. “I'll go try to call him.” As he leaves the room and heads into the kitchen, the wind shifts and the rain begins to assault the window Maggie's still staring out of. There's not a moving car in sight—smart.

“Why don't we go ahead and get to the basement?” Maggie decides, ignoring the childish scoff that escapes Carl in response. “We'll come up again if Rick wants us to, alright?”

“...Can't get phone signal down there.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, because _teenagers_. And _adults_ , really. She imagines she'd probably have her face buried in level two hundred of Candy Crush if Judith wasn't curled around her like a baby boa constrictor right now. “We'll bring a board game.”

Maggie doesn't know how long they're going to be down there, so she directs Carl to the hall closet, where he is instructed to pull out enough blankets for everyone and a couple of pillows. She manages to balance Judith and a couple board games she doesn't bother to read the cover to.

The basement isn't as well-furnished as the other floors of the home, but Maggie does have an old sectional she hadn't been able to part with when she and Glenn had bought a new living room set, so there's that and a scratched-up glass coffee table for them to at least sit at. The rest of the basement is the laundry room, though, so nothing too exciting.

Glenn descends soon enough, his arms full of candles. Maggie has managed to find one, so the room is dimly lit, but as Glenn lights more, the room starts to make a little more sense. When he's finally satisfied, he turns around to find everyone perched comfortably on the sectional. Judith is on her way to being asleep in Maggie's lap, and Carl is seated in front of the coffee table, eyeing the two board games Maggie grabbed in her hurry down here.

“Apparently, the storm cell is pretty big.” Glenn finally announces, still standing. “Rick says it's a slow-moving one, too.” He nods to Carl. “He thinks it's better if you guys stay here for the night, and he'll be by first thing in the morning. That okay?”

Carl shrugs. “Gonna have to be. So...Monopoly or Clue?”

\- - - -

Maggie awakens to the distant thud of knocking on the door upstairs. She's groggy as she pushes herself into a sitting position, still cradling Judith, and moves to head up and answer the door. Judith had fallen asleep not long after their retreat to the basement, but Maggie and Glenn and Carl had stayed up for hours, because Monopoly just _took_ _that long_. It's a little disappointing that no one had been declared winner, but oh well.

Maggie doesn't care that she looks like she's been through hell in a handbasket when she greets Rick. Her short hair is a little bit everywhere from sleeping on a couch that has a tendency to build static, and she'd abandoned her bra halfway through the night, because any woman anywhere knows how hard it is to sleep in a bra. She's sporting Glenn's boxers, which are cooler than most of her own night clothes. Her tired eyes probably make her look like shit, and she honestly doesn't care.

But had she known the coach of the high school baseball team was gonna be here too, she'd have probably at least taken the time to look halfway decent. Rick hadn't let Glenn in on that one, had he?

Rick's apology comes in quickly enough, though. “Squad car got crushed by debris last night.” He motions to Negan. “Sorry to surprise you, but this guy still has a vehicle.”

“Debris?” That wakes Maggie up pretty quickly, and apparently, it does Judith too. The toddler is suddenly wide awake and all-but lunging for her father. Rick scoops her up and pats her hair as she latches onto him in a manner not unlike how she'd done with Maggie.

“Daddy missed you, too. We're gonna go home now, okay?” He acknowledges the little 'mmhmm' Judith gives him, and then focuses on Maggie. “Yeah. No tornado, but the wind took out power lines and tree branches, and one of 'em smashed right into the front windshield of my car. Negan here had to give me a ride home, and to your place this mornin'.”

“Hi.” Carl greets flatly from behind Maggie, and she turns to see both him and her husband standing behind her. Judging by the way Carl is mean-mugging Rick's tagalong, he's not too crazy about him, either. Maggie's heard some stories about the way he treats his players. She doesn't believe some of the more grisly shit, but she also doesn't doubt he's got a mouth on him. After seeing him at Tara's and Denise's housewarming party, she doesn't question that for a second.

“Good morning, stepchild.” Negan teases, impervious to the way Carl narrows his eyes at him almost instantly.

“ _No_.”

“Stepchild?” Glenn asks from behind them all.

“It's a running joke _he_ finds funny.” Carl explains, nodding in Negan's direction. “He likes to come harass my dad whenever he wants—“

“—Carl—” Rick warns, but his son ignores him.

“—And it's apparently enough that he thinks it's cute to pretend they're married, like we're a family or something.”

Maggie can't help but snicker, mostly because Carl's such a freaking teenager, but also because she just can't picture Rick palling around with a guy like this one. From what she's heard, this guy goes against every moral code Rick has in the book. And doesn't he have a police record under his belt, too? More hearsay, though. Gossip travels fast at the small-town doctor's office where she works. As a medical assistant, she's seen a lot of patients and heard a lot of talk.

Negan isn't too popular around here, and either he doesn't notice or he doesn't care. But if Rick's keeping him around, Maggie's more than a little curious to know why. Rick's more the type of guy to pull the knife out of his side and deal with the bleeding than to find someone else to handle it.

“Please, kid.” Negan retorts, breaking Maggie's train of thought and dragging her focus to him and Carl once more. “You only don't like me around because I've creamed your ass ten times over on all your videogames.” He raises both hands and wiggles his fingers. “Magic fucking fingers, right here.”

Maggie notices a lot of things here. Like how Carl growls—literally _growls—_ under his breath in response to those words, and how she can practically hear the gears turning in Glenn's head, because she knows her husband kind of wants to see just how good this Negan is. Or how Judith giggles, probably entertained by Negan's finger-waggles. But what she notices more than anything else, more prominently and somehow more secretive at the same time, is the way Negan looks at Rick.

And the way Rick actually _squirms_ under that look.

She feels no cause for concern that Negan has done anything too terrible, because she knows Rick would shut him down in nothing flat, but she's also not stupid. The stern woman Maggie is, she takes over right then and there. Her gaze finds Negan's, eyebrows raised. “Why don't you take Judith and get her in the car seat? You go too, Carl.”

“Well, excuse the shit out of me, but—“ Negan tries, but Rick cuts him off.

“No, it's fine.” The smaller of the two men turns his gaze up to Negan's, and his eyebrows raise imploringly. “I got this, alright? I'll make it up to you with breakfast—can you just take care of Judith for me for a second?”

There's some hesitation, where it's obvious Negan isn't done talking, but at the promise of breakfast, he has somehow managed to swallow his urge for belligerence in favor of doing what's been asked of him. “...Alright, but it better be good breakfast. I'm talking Denny's good. You cart our asses over to Mickey D's, Rick, and I'm gonna make your life hell.”

Maggie furrows her brow, shooting an incredulous look at Rick, who doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he nods and waves Negan off. “Okay, fine. Point taken.”

Carl doesn't particularly want to run off to the car with Negan, but he does anyway. The older man, with Judith in his arms, chortles something Maggie doesn't quite hear, but she does see the way Carl flips him off and storms to the car. She sure hopes Rick gets as much of a kick out of Carl's distaste for Negan as Negan apparently does.

“So what's goin' on?” She questions once she knows for sure they're out of earshot. She knows Glenn's still listening in, but she doesn't really care. If anything, she wants him to hear. This is important, but it's also food for thought for later.

“...My kids.” Rick deflects. “I'm comin' to get them. That was the deal last night—“ He stops short when he sees the way Maggie rolls her eyes at him.

“No, stupid.” She motions to the man working feverishly to install Judith into the car seat. “Him. Negan. What's the deal with you two?”

“He's a friend.” Rick answers, and Maggie realizes with dumbfounding abruptness that this man is being completely honest with her. “I dunno, we've been talkin' lately. He kicked Carl off the baseball team, and when I tried talkin' him into givin' him another chance, he shot me down. I was angry at first—called him a lot of things I probably shouldn't have. Guess _this_ is my punishment.”

“... _This_?” Maggie's definitely confused, now.

“Yeah. Him bein' around all the time. That's what he told me, at least.” Rick thumbs the general area behind him, with an obvious goal being to point at Negan. “Sometimes, he says it's because he wants to see how much Carl wants to be on the team, but he hangs around me more than he does Carl. Maybe I've grown on him—shit, I dunno.”

That still doesn't explain the way Negan had caused Rick to react just now, but Maggie believes him. “How do you feel about it?”

It hits her in the form of the fondness with which Rick turns his gaze up to her before he responds. “...House was lonely before him. He's hard to deal with, yeah, but Judith loves him, and he keeps things interesting. I'm not gonna go so far as to say he fills the void Lori left, but...it's good to have him around instead of sittin' on the couch, tryin' to figure out what to do with myself.”

And Maggie knows all too well what Rick means by that. He'd taken Lori's death especially hard. Rick was a tough guy, who despite being very clear about how he felt about things, didn't succumb to his emotions often. But Lori's death had been so sudden, and Maggie had seen the way he had initially looked at Judith after her birth. It had to be hard to accept that the process of bringing her into the world had killed his wife, and everyone had been a little afraid of Rick's reaction to all that for a while. In the end, it had blown over just fine—he loved Judith the same way he loved Carl, but even into today, it's obvious how hard on him the whole experience has been.

She doesn't see why _Negan_ is the apparent fix to that, but she's not going to question it. That smile was...a happy one. It wasn't the fake-it-till-you-make-it smile of a father just trying to do right by his kids. It was the smile of a happy man—or at least, one who is happier than he has been in a while. So whatever Negan does while he's over there can't be terrible. Rick's heart had just reverberated out of his chest and all-but spoken to Maggie just now. He doesn't even have to make words to explain it.

Maggie smiles, looking only mildly defeated. “Fair enough, Rick. What're you gonna do about your car?”

Rick shrugs. “I'll get a loaner until they can get my old one fixed. It'll be fine.”

“Okay. Your house still standin'?”

“Yeah.” Rick mimics her smile. “It's all in one piece, and we've got our power back over there. The kids do okay last night?”

Maggie nods. “Yeah—Judy was a little scared at first, but your boy, Carl...he's a damn _rock_.”

Rick laughs breathily, because he knows just what she means by that. Carl's a tough one to get through to. Even after being kicked from Negan's team, he hadn't been that upset. At least, not outwardly. “Well, thanks. I really appreciate you guys. Can't stress it enough.”

“No problem, Rick. Go get some rest.” Maggie gives Rick a quick hug, before she pushes the door shut. She's greeted almost immediately to a knowing smirk from her husband. Glenn's apparently seen it, too.

“So,” he starts as he makes his way back into the living room and leans against the side of the couch, “what do you think?”

Maggie shrugs. “...Obviously, there's somethin'.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Glenn's looking down at his hands, worrying them as he things it through. “You think they've—“

“I'd rather not think they've _anything_.” Maggie cuts in. “Not yet, though. But did you see that? The way Rick looked at me when he talked?”

Glenn meets his wife's gaze and nods quickly. “Yeah. Like the way you looked at me when you told me you were pregnant.” The couple approaches one another and they slide into a comfortable embrace, Maggie's head resting perfectly in the crook of her husband's neck.

“I loved you so much when I found out—I mean, already did, but you get the point.” She presses a kiss to Glenn's shoulder. “But it was even more. Findin' that out after tryin' for so long...it's overwhelming. It's like that man's the first good news Rick's heard in a long time.”

 


	3. Carol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol rolls her ankle in the grocery store and Rick happens to run into her afterward. The rest is history.

Carol hates it when Rick looks at her with those eyes—the ones that always lighten just the slightest when he's worried about someone. His eyebrows are all scrunched upward in concern as he offers her a hand to help her walk. It's sweet, but Carol is headstrong and doesn't like feeling vulnerable—not again.

“Please, Rick.” She scolds softly, ignoring the offered hand as she works her way to her feet. Her right ankle is swollen and tender and it hurts like hell to walk on it, but it's a little hard for Carol to wrap her head around the fact that rolling her ankle could cause this much pain. She supposes she's lucky Rick had been at the grocery store around the same time as her, but if anything, this is more embarrassing to her than fortunate. “I'll be fine. I can handle it.”

“It's okay to ask for help, Carol.” Rick's frowning, and Carol doesn't even have to look up at him from her spot propped up against a bin of cereal cups to see it. “No one's gonna think any less of you.”

Living in a small town has as many curses as it does blessings. King County is such a nice place to live in, where everyone knows everyone, and a large portion of the community operates more like a family than anything. However, as is commonplace in families both great and small, gossip travels. Everyone knows that Carol's husband was a violent man. She sees the way they look at her in the store, or how they stop all their giddy chatter when she shows up at work. She knows they bounce around theories for what set her husband off, when she's personally plenty aware that alcohol just _did_ that to him, and he lived in it until the cirrhosis in his liver took his life. They talk about Sophia, and how she must be taking it, and even if just for the sake of her daughter, Carol knows she can no longer be the weak, battered housewife everyone seems to think she is.

In reality, she's better than she's been in a long time now that Ed's gone. She's never been able to hate him, but there's a huge sense of relief for her and her daughter when she thinks about what they no longer have to endure. No more making up explanations for bruises, or trying to find a hotel at the last minute during a particularly aggressive outburst, or looking at Ed to assess just _how_ drunk he is. It's an unusual freedom that, while both Carol and Sophia had at some point loved Ed, neither can deny they feel.

Rick knows all of this, and yet he chooses to disregard her new strength and keep being such a damned gentleman. What is Carol ever going to do with him? Either way, she sighs and, with a roll of her eyes, takes the offered hand. “I know, I know. Just sucks. I didn't plan on tripping on myself today.”

“Most people don't plan their injuries.” Of course, good ol' Sheriff Rick always knows what to say, doesn't he? Forever the knight in shining armor, even though Carol's been a thorn in his side quite a few times over the past couple of years. “It looks like it's hurting pretty good. I'll help you with your groceries.”

“Nonsense.” Carol waves him off once she's steady on her feet, and instead takes to bracing her weight on her shopping cart. It actually helps—makes it easier to feign strength than it had been moments ago. “I'm a big girl, Rick. I'll put my feet up when I get home, alright?”

Rick doesn't like it, judging by the pensive look on his face, but Carol knows he both respects and understands her decision. He frowns, trying visibly to come up with some other solution that would make them both happy, before he releases a sigh and concedes defeat. “You'll let me know if it gets too bad, then.”

“Of course.” Carol smiles appreciatively as she tosses several different cans of vegetables into her cart, as if nothing had happened. She tries to walk normally, but the wince every other step tells otherwise. “What're you doing here, anyway? I swear I saw you shopping just the other day...”

“Means you were here the other day, too.” Rick teases, just as something shoots past the aisle. The high-pitched squeal of delight that follows explains far better than Rick seems to be trying to. “Just had a certain meal in mind for today and didn't have the supplies at home, is all.”

Carol dismisses that last line and focuses on the blur that had not seconds ago crossed their aisle. “...That was your shopping cart, I'm guessing.” She observes, laughing a bit to herself when Rick nods. “Carl and Judith having a lot of fun, then...?”

“Not exactly.” The voice isn't Rick's, and when Carol looks away from her canned goods to see Carl standing next to his father, she's visibly confused. Carl doesn't appear to be the least bit impressed. In fact, he looks downright annoyed. “You really need to tell him to stop—he's gonna get us kicked out or crash into someone.”

“Him?” Carol questions.

“Negan.” Carl grumbles in response, and then shoots his father a glare. “You'd be on my ass already if it was me.”

“He's an adult.” Rick reminds him sternly. “You're not.”

“He's got Judith.”

“...I know, Carl.” Rick sighs, before he turns his focus to the distant sound of a cart rattling and the squeals of his daughter. Judith is having a blast, but Carol can tell Rick knows his son is right. “Alright, I'll go talk to him.” He makes to disappear down the aisle, but stops just short as the aforementioned Negan almost bowls right through him.

“Negan?” Carol's attention returns to Carl. “The coach?”

“Yep, that's the guy.” Carl rolls his eyes. “He's been inviting himself over to Dad's for a couple months, now.”

Carol vaguely remembers seeing him at Tara's and Denise's party, but aside from hearsay, she honestly doesn't know much about him. However, going by said hearsay and what she's witnessed here so far, she can tell he's quite the handful. Apparently, just enough that Carl doesn't like having him around.

Rick, however, does. Carol has known him long enough to tell the difference between the stern look of a police officer telling a delinquent to stop what they're doing and the firm gaze Rick gives to close friends and family. Even from all the way down the aisle, Carol can see the way he tips his head up and regards Negan with his full attention. His shoulders are raised and his chest out, but he's not as in control as he's trying to be.

“ _She got so excited, it was hard fuckin' not to.”_ Carol faintly hears from her spot in the distance, and she sees the way the words all-but melt Rick's heart. How the minute he brings Judith into the picture, Rick is like warm butter, his shoulders slumping and gaze falling. She sees the way he reaches a hand up to scrub at the back of his neck.

And then, when he looks back up at Negan, there might as well be hearts in his eyes.

Carol thinks it's genuine, too. This Negan guy looks at Judith with the same starstruck expression Rick is giving _him_ right now, and she imagines that's probably what's got the good Sheriff so infatuated in the first place. She sees him move in, gently shove Negan away, and take hold of the cart, before he and the taller man are on their way back down the aisle.

“There you go.” Rick announces pointedly to his son. “Problem solved.”

“You're the reason he made me stop?” Negan looks more amused than offended, as he rolls his eyes and casts a few cans of vegetables into Rick's cart. He doesn't bother to ask, and Carol figures it's because he's the one cooking the meal Rick had mentioned earlier. “Want me to help you wipe some of that shit off the tip of your nose, Carl?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Carl seethes.

“Carl.” Rick scolds. “Both of you...stop.”

A glance in Rick's direction tells Carol that Judith isn't done with their little shopping cart ride. She's rocking back and forth in her seat, as if trying to get the cart to move on her own, but both Rick's grip on the cart and the general lack of force created keeps her rooted to the spot. After about ten seconds of trying, the little girl gives up and crosses her arms all the way up to her chin in frustration. Carol notices the way Negan ruffles her hair from the side of the cart and promises more hijinks later, and she can't help but smile a little.

“So, I've got to ask.” Carol speaks up. The swelling in her right ankle is making it a little hard to focus, but she doesn't plan on lingering too much more. “How'd you two start hanging out?”

“I told you.” Carl interjects, even though he knows the question was more directed to his father and Negan. “He invited himself over.”

“I kicked Carl off the team, and Rick here got butthurt.” Negan nods to the man standing next to him, earning himself a frown from said man.

“I went to try and talk him into givin' Carl another chance—“ Rick tries.

“—and, as is perfectly legitimate, I shot him down.” Negan shrugs. “My job as coach is to make sure the team is in tip-fucking-top shape. This kid's heart isn't in the game, so I cut him. Seriously, he'd get out there and it was like he'd go blind in one goddamned eye or some shit—“

“—Jesus—“ Carl rolls his eyes.

“—But I will tell you, this guy can fuck someone's ass up when it comes to some ping pong.” By now, Negan has gotten so lost in his storytelling that he's swinging an invisible paddle in the air wildly to demonstrate. Next to him, Judith is mimicking the gesture and giggling hysterically as she does so.

“Watch your word choice, Negan.” Rick hisses from next to him, and Negan falters almost immediately—something that catches Carol's attention yet again. She blinks, surprised by just how quickly these moments come and pass. Like little instances where she realizes that some of the hearsay is actually just hearsay, and it seems like this Negan guy isn't a total jerk. There's obviously some part of Rick he actually respects.

“Shit—uh, yeah. My bad.” Negan concedes, turning his focus back to Judith. Both his eyebrows shoot up into his forehead and he points a finger at her. “Don't say those words. I don't know even why I say them, 'kay?”

Judith's flailing has ceased at this point, and she nods as if family is addressing her. “...'kay.”

“You played ping pong with Negan?” Rick suddenly asks Carl, brows furrowed. “Didn't think you could stand to be around the guy.”

Carl shrugs, his attention mostly focused in on his phone by now. “We won a game, so he brought the table in for us to play on during one of our practices.”

“See?” Negan cuts in. “I can be a reasonable person from time to time.”

Carl just rolls his eyes, and that's the end of the conversation. Carol notices that Negan, bored with it himself, turns his attention back to her just in time to see her take a step, and much to her own personal chagrin, she can't help but wince painfully. She hates watching as he follows her wince down past her face and to the source of the pain. Her right ankle is a blend of angry red and bluish purple by now, and she knows Negan can see that she's doing her best not to put any weight on it. She'd been trying hard to divert attention from it, but she guesses she's busted now.

“...What'd you do to your ankle?” He questions absently as he drops a can of diced tomatoes into the cart.

Carol smiles—she's good at doing so even in a monumental amount of pain. “Oh, this? It's nothing. I've definitely seen worse.”

She bites back the urge to cringe when Negan sighs dramatically—a sound she would have been less surprised to hear come from someone Carl's age. “Come on, lady. I've seen a whole lotta nothing before, and that shit? It ain't nothing. See, you're lucky,” he raises a single finger, like a little exclamation point that displays he has an idea, “because part of being coach means I have to know my way around some injuries, and going by the fact that the outside of your ankle's starting to resemble a shiny, plump hemorrhoid right now, it kind of looks like a sprain.”

Rick takes advantage, and Carol knows she's lost by now. “She said she rolled it. I came down the aisle to see her on the ground.”

“Alright. That, I can actually work with.” Negan turns his focus back to Carol. “Did I ever get your name?”

Carol's still trying to make herself look less in pain. “...Carol.”

“Right, okay. Carol, here's how this whole episode's gonna play out.” Negan motions with one hand to the floral-printed button-up the woman's sporting. “You look like the kinda lady who carries a shopping list scribbled on a decorative napkin in your tit pocket at all times. Gimme that list.”

Knowing where he's going with this, Carol shakes her head. “I can handle myself. Honest.”

“I'm sure you can.” Negan rolls his eyes. “But you're not gonna. Carl's gonna cart your gimpy ass over to front of the store, and you're gonna wait for Rick and Judy and I to finish picking up your shit, and then you're gonna let us load it up in your car. And when you get home, you're gonna limp your way into your house and prop that fucker up and wait for it to heal.” Even Rick doesn't seem keen on correcting his language, now that someone's talking Carol into taking it easy.

Really, this is flattering. Carol appreciates the thought, but...yeah, no. She's not going there. “I'd rather not.”

“Please?” Carl joins in this time, and Carol notices how he doesn't so much as shoot Negan a glance out of the corner of his eye as he speaks. “Just this one time, and then we'll be out of your hair.”

Carol doesn't know why, but she looks to Rick as a last resort—silently begs for the good Sheriff to call off his army. But it never happens. He just shrugs, offers a lopsided smile and looks away, making it clear he's useless to her. She's not surprised, but she wishes he'd help her pride a little before he decided the ankle needed more attention.

“...Fine.” She gives in, both hands flying up in surrender, which she immediately regrets, because pain floods her entire right leg the instant she decides to put any weight on it. Thankfully, Carl is straight to the rescue. He swoops in like the lanky teenage superhero he is and pulls one of her arms over his shoulders.

Negan extends a hand, palm-up. “I'll be taking that list, now.”

\- - - - -

Carol won't admit it aloud, but it feels a whole world better to get off that foot. Carl has sought out the assistance of one of the store's less busy cashiers, and now, he's got her sitting on a bench with her right leg propped up on a milk crate, a ziploc bag of ice wrapped in a dingy cloth resting atop her injured foot. She's watching on as Rick and Negan work on checking out both her things and their own, while Carl cradles a sleeping Judith next to her.

It's an enigma, watching those two men work together. Rick is surprisingly organized, and after beckoning Negan off to help with bagging groceries, he's sorting everything. Shopping trips in the past with Lori tell Carol that it's probably a habit Rick had picked up while shopping with his late wife—frozen things first, then cold things, and then canned things, and then dried things, and last but not least, soft things that could be crushed. He's making sure to separate produce and meat, and as Negan loads the bags up into the carts, he's quick to give Rick all kinds of hell for it.

And Rick doesn't care. If anything, he's getting a kick out of it. At first, Carol sees him roll his eyes. She watches as he tries to brush off Negan's jests, but eventually, he seems to find more success in actually _laughing_ at the comments the other man has to make. _“You sort like you came out of the birth canal doing that shit,”_ Negan teases, and Rick laughs. _“Oh my god, do you think the bananas are gonna fornicate with that box of cereal or some fuckery?”_ He groans, and Rick actually gives him a playful shove. He's joking and laughing, and Carol can't remember the last time she saw him be affectionate with _anyone_ , let alone this guy.

She remembers the dark place he'd gone into after Lori's death. Recalls one night when he'd called her, begging her to take Judith and Carl for a night. One night had become two, which faded into three, and then four, and almost a week later, he'd finally told her he could come get the kids. He'd shown up at her doorstep looking like he hadn't showered in days, and she had almost offered to keep Carl and Judith longer.

She had watched Rick get sucked up in his own misery for all of a month, before she had slapped—literally slapped—some sense into him. Reminded him that he had two children who saw the world in him, and that Lori would be _pissed_ if she saw him the way he was now. And apparently, something had clicked. He'd reached out to the surprisingly vast support system he'd had, and he'd eventually started trying to get back on his feet.

Carol had seen the darkness fade, but she'd never seen the light return. Rick's not a depressive guy—he keeps a practiced smile on his face, and he loves his children with every ounce of his being. But things like this? Little affectionate gestures, genuine laughter, and almost childlike horseplay? These are things she hadn't thought she'd ever see in him again.

So maybe it doesn't matter to her who Rick's with, or what kind of person that guy is. So long as he keeps looking up at Negan like he sees the moon and the stars and the universe all playing out in him, she doesn't care. It's nice to see him like this, and that's all that matters.

“Weird, isn't it?” Carl suddenly asks from next to her, and when she acknowledges him, it's with one raised eyebrow.

“Is it?”

“I dunno, yeah?” Carl muses. “I mean, he turns into a totally different guy when Negan starts in on him. It's weird.”

Carol smiles and shakes her head. “Maybe. I don't think so, but he's your father, so you know better than me.” Either way, she claps her hands onto her knees resolutely and picks her leg up to place her foot onto the ground. “Now, get me out to my car before they give me diabetes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say that I am blown away by how supportive this fandom is. You guys are all so wonderful and encouraging. I'm halfway through this short little thing, and I just can't believe I was afraid to post this story at first. Thank you guys so, so much for being so kind and leaving all the kudos and comments that you've left so far!


	4. Carl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Carl thinks Negan is around too damned much, and he works out how to cope with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has so far been the most difficult chapter for me to post. It's been a long time since I was Carl's age, and writing from the perspective of a teenager with a tendency to blow things out of proportion is actually quite challenging! In any case, I hope it translated well. :)
> 
> The circle is getting smaller! Just one more outside view after this one, and then we get to see Rick's thoughts on the whole thing. Thanks so much for reading this far, everyone. Your support has been incredible.

Negan is over all the damned time.

No, that is not a colorful exaggeration dreamed up by an overly dramatic teenager. Carl literally sees that asshole _all. The. Damned. Time._

At first, it wasn't so much. There had been about a week's gap in between Negan turning down Rick's request to give Carl another chance on the baseball team and him stopping by to visit, and during that visit, Carl had actually been spending the night with Sophia, so he hadn't gotten to witness the initial surprise his dad had no doubt felt. Just the really awkward explanation that his former coach had stopped by and told him he wanted to be _friends_.

And _friends_ , he'd tried to be from then on. The visits had started out weekly, but when Negan would stop showing up just on Fridays and drop by on Wednesdays too, things started getting out of hand. Carl could avoid the guy if it was the weekend. The week? No way in hell was Rick letting him leave on a school night.

Twice weekly had turned into almost daily with time. The next thing Carl had known, he'd been eating at the dinner table with Negan, going on outings with Negan, having his videogames hijacked by Negan...the list was neverending. Negan had rapidly become a regular part of his life, and it took literally no time for that simple presence to drive Carl batshit crazy.

Don't get him wrong—his grudge against Negan has nothing to do with him being kicked from the baseball team. He gets that, and if he's being honest, his heart really _isn't_ in the game. It had been fun at first, but like Negan's always too fucking quick to point out, baseball isn't his calling anymore. So yeah, no harm, no foul there. Rick had been more upset about him losing his spot on the team than Carl, himself.

No, his real issue is just how much of a piece of rat-ass Negan is. Carl's a little shit, he knows this much. But Negan—Negan's on an entirely different scale. He likes saying whatever picturesque little metaphors he can come up with and watching people wriggle uncomfortably underneath the weight of his words. He smirks when kids fall on their faces during practice. His token insult is 'sorry shits' during warmups, and he literally _cannot_ get enough of himself.

Carl honestly doesn't doubt for a second that Negan's probably tried to figure out a way to put his own dick in his mouth because he wants himself so damned badly.

And that's what he doesn't understand about this. Rick is the type of guy who doesn't like to be pushed. Carl's seen him get irritated with Pete Anderson for being a giant shit, but when Negan goes around antagonizing him, it rolls right off his shoulder. He's seen Negan steal bites from Rick's plate. He's seen Negan make _really_ questionable dick jokes to Rick's face. He's seen Negan dig and dig and dig like a damned child for things to tease Rick about. And for whatever reason, his dad is okay with this. Mind you, Rick doesn't let it happen without saying something back, but it's almost encouraging, how he does it with that roll of his eyes or a halfway-sarcastic retort. Either way, Carl just doesn't get it.

Literally the only explanation Carl can think of is that he doesn't see Negan as much as his father does. Hard to believe, right? Well, it's shockingly true. Carl makes a point to avoid the house on weekends, because Negan spends the night more often than not. It's not uncommon for Carl to come home to the bastard crashed on the living room couch with TruTV playing faintly in the background.

But the point is, his poor father—poor Rick Grimes—is exposed to Negan almost one hundred percent of his time outside of work. And hell, Carl hasn't exactly gone into a full-scale investigation, but maybe _during_ work. Surely not, though. His dad has patience, but not _that_ goddamned much.

Carl doesn't like him, or his attitude, but there's something else there too. A lot of somethings, really. Like how Negan doesn't usually ask permission to drop by (and hadn't at all initially, until Rick had spoken to him about it). Or how quickly Judith has taken to him. Or how the last time someone had spent so much time in the Grimes house, it had been his _mother_.

That thought aches right into Carl's bones, and likely fuels every negative feeling he's got for Negan. And when he thinks of it like that, he legitimately cannot bring himself to be able to process how his father isn't positively furious with Negan's redundant self-insertion into their collective lives.

He's bitter about it, too. While Rick had seemed confused and maybe a little annoyed at first by Negan's repeated presence, he's now okay with it. Has even mentioned that he and Negan were friends on occasion. The things that Rick had 'hmm'ed at a month and a half ago, he's now rolling his eyes and making comments back at. Negan's growing on him, and it's not fair.

The thing is, if anyone had seen Rick sink to the bottom of his depression after Lori's death, it had been Carl. Carl, who had fed Judith because Rick had been unable to pull himself out of bed in the mornings. Carl, who had changed her diapers and taken her to checkups for the first two months. Carl, who had pushed alongside Carol to talk Rick out of his miserable little fantasy world in time to be a father. And it had been Carl who had watched him get back on his feet, who had helped him pick up the pieces.

Carl had seen his father's progress from then on. How his shoulders had seemed to rise a little more each and every day, and how he got out more—went drinking with Shane every now and then, even. He'd watched Rick get better, but he'd never seen a full recovery. He'd never _expected_ a full recovery, because he _personally_ had yet to make one. He'd thought 'like father, like son' for a while.

But then Negan had come along, and it had been like a switch had flipped somewhere inside his dad's head. The Rick who had been working to get from one day to the next is quickly becoming the Rick who isn't ready to go to bed when everyone else is, and the Rick who greets Negan with returned sarcasm and even a friendly punch on the shoulder every now and then(little treasures, because Negan hates it when he does that).

Maybe it's all been because his father has found someone to lean on. Carl knows Rick has told Negan about Lori, and that he has cried openly to the other man about her. He's seen them sitting on that couch well past midnight, chattering on and on. Multiple times, he's sat outside of his bedroom door and just _listened_. Thought that maybe Negan's not such a bad guy, and that he probably just puts on that bad boy front in hopes of getting laid.

And then Negan always opens his mouth the next morning.

Carl's tried making Negan uncomfortable by suggesting that he and Rick ought to get married, but in light of the 'stepson' joke, Negan's obviously managed to play right into that. He's even gone so far as to come in all white-picket-fence husband and greet his 'family' with a resounding “Honey, I'm home!” and actually kiss Rick on the cheek, which is hard on Carl's appetite just thinking about it.

By now, he's learned to just try and finish his food as quickly as possible and retreat to his room before Negan starts in. Every now and then, he'll succumb to a challenge of old PS2 fighting games, but for the most part, he's just twenty times better off if he's actually in his room, where he has control over whatever's going on around him. He'll leave the powder keg of a man to his father, since said father seems keen enough on having him around.

For a while, Carl's content with that. He'll text Sophia from time to time, go hang out with her when he can, and spend the rest of the time in his room with Facebook and Steam games to distract him. It's not so bad when Rick lets him invite Sophia over, too. Sophia's a good listener, and she's also smart as a whip and quick with advice. And Carl likes how unbiased she is. She's a little sympathetic to all sides, but also blunt. Carl bitches enough to hear “Deal with it—it's not changing, so you're gonna have to move on” more than his fair share of times.

But he likes that about her.

Her advice gets him by, too. When Rick makes him eat dinner with the rest of the family, he tries his best to endure with an expression on his face that doesn't resemble ingesting a mouthful of salt-covered lemon. He fires back at Negan and actually gets a few laughs out of his own father. Things are semi-okay, and on nights like this, Carl isn't opposed to a friendly game of Tekken Tag Tournament with him. Sometimes, Rick joins in, and Carl actually goes to bed feeling less like throwing things than usual.

They go to a housewarming party, and Carl spends his time with Enid. She's one of his best friends, and he really just wants to get away and enjoy some fresh air for a while. Even in the distance, he can hear everyone talking and yelling and having a good time, but he doesn't care. He can only barely make out the silhouettes of his dad and Negan, and that's exactly what he needs. He and Enid drink about four sodas each and Enid pukes in a bush like a drunk. Duane shows up and offers her another, and Carl can't fathom why she takes it.

There's a storm a week later, and after spending a night with Glenn and Maggie, Carl wakes up to a faceful of Negan and his father, and there's a little not-so-friendly fire between himself and Negan, but things are far better than they've been lately. Maggie makes them leave so she can talk to Rick, and Judith asks Negan to sing a song. He whistles. Carl doesn't like it, but Sophia's advice rings through and he just keeps his mouth shut. He only faintly wonders if he's blowing all of this out of proportion, and he realizes Sophia would probably tell him that he is.

They find Carol in that grocery store on 'date night', as Negan is calling it, because he knows how much it bothers Carl to hear that. He tries to brush it off, but it's still gross. He goes into that shopping trip already bristled, but then his dad finds Carol and disappears toward her, and Negan starts racing the shopping cart with Judith in it. He feels like the only actual adult in this entire fucked-up family. He's thankful that Carol rescues him without even trying to. Hell, she even got Negan's help.

It continues like this for another week, and for a while, Carl genuinely feels like Sophia's advice is starting to make sense. He calls her up later that week and thanks her, and she comes over. They share a first kiss on his bed. She leaves and Carl feels euphoric enough to play videogames with Negan until late that night.

But the Monday of the next week, Negan fucks up.

He probably doesn't mean to. But he does. He's sitting on the couch with his arms on the backrest, looking around. Carl doesn't know why Negan decides to bring his mom into the conversation, but he does, and just hearing her name on his tongue is like acid being poured directly onto his eardrums.

“What would your lady think?” Negan asks, like it's the most basic question in the world. Carl's immediately seeing red, but somewhere in the angry hues, he manages to make out the shock on his father's face.

“About what?”

“Y'know, me being around.”

Rick shrugs, apparently not taking much stock into the question either, which makes Carl even more angry. “Don't know, really. She'd have probably been madder than me about you takin' Carl off the team, though.”

“She wouldn't like you.” Carl pipes up from the top of the stairs. He sees the way both Negan and his father regard him, and his father's eyes are begging him to stop. He doesn't. “You're arrogant and full of yourself, and she'd have slapped the shit out of you by now.”

“Language, Carl.” Rick tries.

“Yeah?” Negan continues, either not taking the hint or just not caring. Carl honestly isn't sure which. “She sounds like a real peach—just my kinda gal.”

“She's _dead_ , Negan.” Carl seethes. “Don't talk about her like she's something you can—”

“That's enough, Carl.” Rick interrupts, eyes narrowed.

“No, it's not!” Carl knows he should probably quiet down because Judith is fast asleep in her room, but it just seems so impossible right now. “It's _not_ okay for him to talk about my mom like that! It's not okay for him to talk about her _at all_!” He doesn't remember getting to the bottom of the stairs, but he's there now and rounding on Negan. “You keep her name out of your mouth! You didn't know her.”

“Carl!” Rick's at his feet, but Carl doesn't notice.

“Whoa, calm your mammaries.” Negan manages. “It was just small talk. You know, that shit people start up in hopes of getting a conversation going?”

“I don't care.” Carl bites back. “Look, you might have my dad fooled into thinking that you're just some average joe, but I know you're a piece of shit—“

“—Carl—“ Carl doesn't hear the warning in his father's voice.

“—and no matter how much you show up or how many things you do with us, you can't just _magically_ belong. You stick out like a sore thumb, Negan. Just give it up already—“

“THAT'S ENOUGH!”

It's rare that even Carl sees his father this angry, but there Rick is, eyes wide with fury, shoulders reared up, and teeth bared. He realizes in that gaze that he's probably taken it too far, but it isn't like he can take it back, so instead, he grumbles out a quick, “...whatever.” and storms up the stairs and to his room, where he knows Rick is about to banish him to, anyway.

See, the thing about being the age Carl is right now is that he _knows_ a huge part of him is being immature. He _knows_ a lot of his feelings just stem from annoyance. But no matter how childish these feelings are, they're still there, and they're very, _very_ real. Even through the muffler that is the door and stairwell separating them, Carl can hear Rick trying to apologize to Negan. It's frustrating that he can't hear what Negan's saying, especially because he knows Negan is going to have something to say.

His father is blaming teenage angst, and using excuses about Lori being a tough subject for Carl—even going so far as to suggest that his son never really got the chance to accept his mother's passing. That irritates Carl, mostly because it's _true_ , and he rolls over onto his side on his bed and covers his ears with a pillow.

All he has to do is block out the sound. Block out the sound and close his eyes, and maybe he'll just go to sleep. With any luck, he'll wake up tomorrow and things will have returned to the same pattern, as if nothing had happened. Or maybe, with even more luck, Negan will just _go_.

He doesn't know how much time passes, but he does know he's whispering to himself to just _go to sleep_ , and when it doesn't work, he turns back over toward the doorway and grunts in frustration. He's just about to launch his pillow across the room when he spots his father standing in the doorway. No Negan, just Rick.

Carl lets the pillow flop back unceremoniously onto the mattress. He shoots his father an icy glare that he doesn't actually mean, and it falters almost immediately. He's not saying it, but he takes some comfort in that his dad is deciding to talk to him instead of letting him stew away while he and Negan shoot their regular shit together. Rick's opening his mouth to speak, but Carl cuts him off, even if he's avoiding eye contact like a plague.

“Sorry.” He manages, and out of the sideways glance he has cast at his father, he sees Rick shake his head.

“No, I am.” Rick shuts the door and leans against it, crossing his arms. “Didn't know how else to get through to you, but I shouldn't have yelled.”

Carl shakes his head this time, pushing himself up until he's sitting cross-legged atop his mattress. “I understand. I lost it for a second, there.” Like Sophia, he's just about fed up with the negative side of this whole Negan issue, so he's calmed down significantly in hopes that this can be civil. Besides, his beef isn't with his father.

“Yeah...you did.” Rick agrees, but it's in a sort of soft, mutually-understanding way, rather than a condescending attempt at scolding. Carl can tell by everything in his father's demeanor right now—slacked posture, confused wording, even difficulty looking his son in the eyes—that he's here to talk, and maybe even to listen. Either way, after a few seconds of silence, Carl's father speaks again. “Does having Negan here bother you that much?”

“Yeah.” Carl answers, but he hesitates afterward, looking down at the ground. “Not exactly. I mean, he's an asshole, Dad. And maybe I've kinda blown some of the stuff he's done out of whack, so I guess he's not a _total_ one...but I don't know.”

“It's hard to tell.” Rick actually dares to laugh softly, which alarms Carl enough to draw his attention to his father's face. “I think I get it, though. He annoyed me at first, too. Still does, sometimes.”

“When did he stop?” Carl supposes he probably should have just asked that question instead of waiting for the perfect moment to explode on their self-invited house guest, but it's too late now. “Annoying you all the time, I mean.”

“I don't know.” Rick answers, and Carl notices a softness in his normally-sharp gaze. A fondness, almost. “I think it starts with figurin' out that half the things he says aren't meant to annoy. He just likes to hear himself talk.”

“...Are you defending him?”

“Maybe.” Rick shrugs. “Probably...yeah.”

Carl looks down again. “What do you guys talk about at night?”

The pause before Rick's answer tells Carl his father has never been unaware of the handful of times his son has overheard them. “It just depends on the night. We talk about a lot. Did you know he used to be married?”

“Oh, yeah? How many times?”

“Carl.”

“...Sorry. No, I didn't.”

Rick finally crosses the space between the door and Carl's bed and takes a seat next to his son. Carl doesn't protest. “She died. Cancer.”

Carl doesn't know why he didn't expect that, but it shows on his face, and he finds himself feeling a little embarrassed. He traces his fingers through his hair, brushing some of the dark locks out of his eyes. “You'd never know.”

“Yeah.” Rick agrees. “Not sure, but I think the common ground's helped a little in makin' him grow on me. You learn real fast that he's more than just hot air when he actually wants you to know things like that. Seems like less of a punishment now and more like he just needed someone to talk to. So we do a lot of it...talkin', I mean.”

Carl actually smiles, but it fades quickly enough. “I haven't been making this easy on you. Sorry.”

“You're my son—I don't expect you to make it easy.” Rick actually jokes, and Carl finds himself laughing along with it despite himself. “But I gotta know...why'd it bother you when he brought your mother up?”

Carl hesitates, and allows himself to legitimately think about his answer. But when he does, and all that comes up are memories of his mother greeting him after school or cheering him on during practices, or flashes of her tired smiles in the morning, or a particularly fond memory of her letting Carl help her put the groceries away because Judith wouldn't stop kicking in her very-pregnant belly...it's hard to find the right words.

“I don't know.” Carl finally answers, his voice a little gravelly. “I guess it's just that he's around all the time, and you haven't really had a lot of guests since Mom died, and then he said all that stuff about her earlier...” He hasn't really finished speaking, but at the same time, he isn't sure he knows how to put the rest of it into words. Rick picks up on that.

“I loved your mom.” He says. “I still love her. She's not Negan, and he's not her. If you're worried about him takin' her place, you need to know that's not gonna happen.” Rick pauses there. “... _Is_ that what you're afraid of?”

It occurs to Carl just how confused about this whole situation his father is. Rick's just going with the motions, probably just as unaccustomed to having a guy like Negan in his life as everyone else is. But when he takes a good, long look, there's something else there. Carl believes Rick when he says Negan is never going to take Lori's spot in their family, but...whoa.

It's like he _wants_ Carl to be afraid of it. Like he _wants_ there to be some sort of family aspect to all this mess that's going on here. Like all that teasing about Carl being Negan's stepchild has somehow managed to worm its way under just the right layer of Rick's skin, and he's actually kind of starting to feel like this is the way things are supposed to be. Like all that poking and prodding and teasing has just become a part of Rick's daily life. And Carl isn't oblivious to how this conversation sounds so damned close to an 'I hate my stepparents' talk from so many movies.

It's like Rick wants Negan to stay a permanent part of his life, and when Carl looks right into his father's eyes, he can almost see the man pleading for his son to let this work. Like it's so incredibly important to him that he needs his son to understand. Carl wants to ask him outright, but he doesn't think he can manage the words. And he doesn't think Rick is aware of it yet, anyway.

His father's in love with Negan.

For now, he just tries to focus on the question. “Maybe? Like, ten minutes ago I was, but I get it now, Dad. You don't have to reassure me.”

This hasn't been much of a talk—probably not the one Carl and Rick really need to be having—but it's enough. Carl's still not crazy about Negan, but Rick is, and even if it's just for his dad's sake, Carl has already resolved to try and go a little easier on the guy. Hell, maybe that'll snowball and make said guy go easier on him, too.

Rick slides an arm around his son's shoulders, and Carl gives him a one-armed hug in return. But just as he's about to leave, Carl speaks up. “Does Negan know you told me about that stuff? His wife, I mean?”

Rick hesitates. “Didn't think to ask permission. Probably gonna pay for that one later.”

“Oh...okay.” Carl's satisfied with that answer, and after his dad leaves, it's just him and the silence of his bedroom. He flops back onto his mattress and mouths 'holy shit' to the ceiling, because he had _not_ expected to see all those feelings right on the foreground of his dad's expression. Rick hadn't looked that taken by someone in years. Not since his mom had been alive.

And of all people, it's _Negan_. That's a tough pill to swallow, but it's just the dose of reality Carl needs. It reminds him in the most abrupt of ways that Negan isn't going anywhere.

It's difficult to try and picture them being a couple, despite Rick's obvious feelings. Understandably so though, considering Carl has never pictured his dad as the type to be into men. His sexuality itself isn't so confusing as the guy he's with, though. Negan jokes around a lot, but is he really into that? He talks about his dick enough to seem like your token straight man, but hell, maybe that's all talk. Despite that, it's still incredibly hard to see the two of them entangled in one another on the couch. Or holding hands. Or making out. Eww.

Does Negan know? Does he feel the same way? Is he going to end up moving in? The questions are piling up like crumpled wrapping paper on Christmas, and Carl is rapidly starting to realize just how little he knows about the entire situation.

He picks up his phone and decides to text Sophia.

\- - - - -

The next morning is surprisingly not that awkward. Carl's got school, and Rick has asked Negan, who has decided to take the day off, to watch Judith during the day. They eat breakfast just like they normally would, and Negan continues to make the stepdad jokes that Carl realizes still gross him out. He throws a biscuit at his supposed 'stepdad' though, and that makes him feel a little better. Rick stretches a hand out just in time to stop Negan from throwing it back. Judith squeals with glee and raises two hands full of scrambled eggs into the air.

Rick dismisses himself to the bathroom to finish getting ready for work, so it's just Carl and Negan and Judith. They're all in the living room, and Judith is counting the various matches pictured on the black T-shirt Negan's wearing. Carl decides not to question why someone would buy a shirt with a bunch of matches on it, and instead thinks about how cute it is that Judith gets to eight and then starts over, because that's as far as she knows.

Faintly, the news plays in the background, but none of the living room's occupants are paying it any mind. Carl's got his hands in his lap, and he eventually pulls out his phone—smiles when he sees a message from Sophia.

“My dad's in love with you.” He says, as if it's just a conversation piece.

“I know.” Negan responds, like it's nothing.

Carl doesn't look up to see if he's smiling.

 


	5. Negan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan's already aware of the news Carl gave him, but the kid still gets him thinking.

“My dad's in love with you.”

“I know.”

Of course Negan knows. He's known for a while. In fact, it doesn't take a fucking genius to notice. Negan's frankly a little surprised it's taken Carl this long to figure it out. Hell, Judith is probably quicker to the uptake than this kid right now, and seeing as he's got over ten years on her, that's saying something.

The best part about this whole thing, however, is that Rick _himself_ doesn't even know. And that's fucking mind-blowing, because how does someone _not_ notice that? Does he think it's just indigestion or some shit? Maybe he'd made a mistake ordering buffalo wings instead of barbecue? No, seriously, _what in the actual fuck?_

Shocking as it is, though, it's also entertaining. Negan's thought about calling him out on it, but he's not sure he wants to. It's too fun, saying just the right thing and watching Rick try to figure out why in the fuck that comment made his cock twitch like it'd been struck by a sounding fork. And yes, he's seen Rick's cock get hard. Because yes, he's looked. Guys are far more aware of one another's tallywhackers than they let on. It's a pride thing.

In any case, Negan's been having his fun with this realization for more than his fair share of time. Carl probably thinks the 'stepdad' jokes are solely intended for him, but he's always too caught up in how gross that shit is to him to see how Rick reacts to it. At first, he didn't do anything about it—he would maybe roll his eyes or shake his head. But now that the joke seems to be a running one, Negan has caught him staring, as if he's trying to decide just how much of the charade is actually still just that...a charade.

Carl thinks Negan's a shit, and he's actually right. He just doesn't know how far Negan is pushing the envelope. He doesn't see the little lingering glances Negan throws to his father, or how Negan intentionally licks his lips and sticks his tongue out _just so_ because he likes to watch Rick's eyes follow the gesture, and he's perpetually fighting down the temptation to suggest the guy go to the bathroom if he needs to deal with his _indigestion_.

A part of him _wants_ Rick to react on it one day. He might be focused on more important things when the kids are home, but Negan knows that if Rick knew he wanted it, he'd probably be on it like positive on a pregnancy test. Knowing another guy wants to jump his bones has Negan curious as to how Rick would do it. Would he just jump in his lap and start mouth-fucking him right there? Or maybe go all no-homo on him and try to drive him away (which Negan would shut right the fuck down)? Or would he ask Negan how _he_ felt?

Rick's a prime example of what a good human being should be, though. He's dedicated to his family, and he's patient, and he's undeniably loyal to his friends. He's a hard worker who often comes home exhausted, but still manages to make sure his kids are properly attended to before winding down for the night. And for whatever goddamned reason, he just _let_ Negan into his life. So it's easy to believe that whatever Rick does, he'll do it earnestly. He'll own that shit like a fucking king.

Negan hadn't gone into this expecting it to last. Honestly, his goal had been to show up, pester Rick for a while, and then be on his merry way. He hadn't expected to enjoy talking to the guy as much as he does now. To somehow bond over stupid shit like how Negan had lectured Rick over how goddamned _tiny_ his kitchen trash can is, or how Rick drives like he got his license from a nursing home, or the stupid fucking shit shows on TruTV.

He did not expect to want to make repeat appearances, let alone every single day. But at some point, it had happened. Negan would get home after practice, throw together a quick dinner, and sit in his living room watching the same damned TruTV bullshit while stuffing his face, wishing he had someone to talk to about it.

And then he would find himself at Rick's place. And when he didn't find himself at Rick's place, he would find himself there the next day. It had become a vicious cycle, and for a while, a confusing one.

Negan doesn't remember exactly when he noticed Rick was attracted to him. He's always had a pretty colorful vocabulary, so the dick jokes and sex puns and copious sprinkling of the 'f' bomb have always been a part of how he talks. So he guesses that somewhere between all of that and the pretending he's married to Rick for the fuck of it, his words have sunken in and just...made Rick interested.

Negan's the first to say he's got that effect on people.

But what he doesn't expect is being prepared to reciprocate if Rick ever does act upon it. Negan himself doesn't know just how deep that thought goes—if he just wants to see what it's like to put his dick in the good Sheriff Grimes, or if there are actual _feelings_ involved. But Negan knows that if Rick were to ever decide to say or do something, he's not about to push him away. There's a sort of morbid curiosity he can't get past.

Even though Negan's known about Rick's feelings for a long ass time, it feels good to have some sort of solid proof from Carl. Negan's contemplating asking him what tipped him off, but it's right about that time that Rick decides to come back downstairs and herd his son away for school. Carl doesn't so much as cast a glance back at Negan or Judith, before he's directed out to the car. Negan only mulls over it for a moment though, before he situates Judith a little more comfortably in his lap and reaches for the remote.

“Guess it's just you and me for now, kiddo.”

\- - - - -

Rick works late that night, so it's just Carl and Negan and Judith for the afternoon. For the first couple of hours, Judith serves as the goofy toddler cheerleader to Carl's and Negan's alternating attempts at outrunning a boulder on Resident Evil 4, though her cheers fall on deaf ears when the character succumbs for the millionth time to the speed and weight of the boulder and the red, bloody letters, “YOU ARE DEAD” float up on the screen. Negan decides it's time to start supper, and demands that Carl get them past that shit while he focuses on their meal.

The night prattles on monotonously enough from there. Carl gets past the boulder, and Negan tells him to save his game so they can play later, to which he reluctantly agrees. The end result is them working on food together in the kitchen. Rick doesn't have a whole lot in the vein of food, but they come up with a pot pie made from the supplies they could find, and it's actually pretty damned good. They decide to eat at the couch tonight, save for Judith, who is placed into a high chair so she can watch what's on the television. She's more interested in separating the bread from the vegetables in her pot pie, though.

So that just leaves Carl and Negan to themselves, eating in silence. Negan's literal shit at being quiet, but there is really nothing to talk about, so he damn near creams himself with joy when the door opens and in steps Rick Grimes. A very tired looking Rick Grimes, but Rick Grimes, no less. The Sheriff seems to notice Negan's delight, because somewhere in all that work-weariness floats up a half-smile, and Rick even goes so far as to make a comment on it.

“Good to see you too.” He observes.

Negan's grin spreads into one of his trademark smirks. “Well, what can I say? I missed you.”

He sees the little quirk in Rick's lips as he decides how to take that response, before he rolls his eyes and starts into the kitchen. “...You cooked?”

“Not much else to do around here.” Negan shrugs and pivots from the couch to watch the other man. Rick looks _really_ good in uniform, and Negan doesn't feel guilty thinking that at all. “But seriously, Rick? You do realize you can put things in your cabinets and fridge, right? That's the whole fucking point of them being there.” He knows by now that Rick is more the type to buy the ingredients he needs the day of the meal, but not unsurprisingly, that doesn't stop him from giving shit where shit is due.

Rick brushes the comment off completely. “Smells good.” Negan watches him fix a plate, and then turns and makes himself comfortable all over again as Rick joins them on the couch. The news is playing, though the only one really interested is Rick. Donald Trump is busy running his mouth on the screen.

Negan can't help himself. “Anybody else notice how he talks like a big orange vacuum cleaner ready to suck all the nasty shit out of the little space between the baseboard and the living room carpet?” As if to demonstrate, he makes the annoying little 'o' the sad excuse for a President's mouth forms while he talks, and Carl's the first to laugh.

“Please.” Carl snickers. “Don't insult vacuum cleaners by comparing him to them.”

“Not sorry, stepson.” Negan answers, and Carl looks ready to go full offense on him and launch a fistful of pot pie at his face.

“ _Don't_ call me that.”

“Come on, guys.” Rick urges. “One night of getting along. I just want one.”

“We are getting along.” Negan retorts. “Kid's staying in the same room so far—fuckin' progress.”

“Shut up.” Carl grumbles.

Despite the recurring arguments between Negan and Carl, the night actually progresses pretty well. They resume their videogames once they're done with their food, and Rick takes a spot at the far end of the couch, throwing in puzzle solutions or good vantage points during fight sequences to attack from. Judith eventually falls asleep in Rick's arms, though, so he disappears upstairs to put his daughter to bed. It's while Negan's got the controller and is trying to manhandle his way through a horde of angry villagers that Carl decides it's a good time to speak up.

“So, what're you gonna do?”

“What's it look like?” Negan growls as his character is knocked down. He takes one of the herbs to keep from dying. “I'm gonna use this gun and blast them until their shitty rotten heads explode and the fragments spray all over the ground like spunk at a circle-jerk.”

“No, idiot.” Negan can practically hear Carl's eyes rolling. “I mean with my dad.”

Negan pauses the game. He cranes his head to see if Rick's coming, and when he sees no one, turns to face Carl once more. “...You know, for a kid who cringes when I make gay-ass comments toward your dad, you're awfully concerned about what goes on between us. You're giving me some mixed-as-fuck signals, and I need to know what exactly it is that you want from me.”

Thing is, he doesn't really care what Carl thinks about it, but it had been Carl who had earlier come out and tried to break the news, and it's Carl who's pushing again now. Had Rick said something to him when he'd gone upstairs to talk to him the previous night? Where had Carl's attitude about this whole thing changed?

“He's my dad.” Carl answers simply. Negan notices that he too is watching carefully to make sure his father doesn't overhear. “I don't even know if you like him back, but if you do, you should say something.”

The way Carl is wording all of this, Negan feels like he's in high school all over again. Does he _like_ this guy? Should he ask him to the homecoming dance? Are they gonna start holding hands? Are they gonna go all the way?

“ _Do_ you like him?” Carl suddenly questions. Negan figures it's probably because he realizes he hasn't even asked that part yet. Honestly, though, Negan would rather he hadn't asked, because that's shit he's still trying to figure out.

“Hold the phone, kid. This isn't water cooler talk anymore, alright? That shit's between your old man and me.”

“Don't care.” Carl answers. “It's important. Because if you're gonna lead him on with all the shit you're pulling, at least throw the guy a bone.” He pauses with realization, and Negan swears he sees the kid turn _green_. “Don't take that the wrong way.”

Negan laughs. “Already did.”

The upstairs floor starts to creak, and before Carl can retort, Rick is descending the stairs. Negan notices he has changed into a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants, and he thinks that, _damn_ , he looks good in those too.

Negan's a pretty self-aware guy. He can tell when his mind is changing on things, and right now, he can feel Carl's words working their way into his skull and tearing away at his curiosity. Is he interested in Rick like that? Well, yeah, a little. But are there actual romantic, emotional feelings involved? Negan hasn't exactly been the example of settling down into relationships following the death of his wife, but he's already got the being present all the time part down to a goddamned science here, so maybe.

“She must've had a long day.” Rick muses, referring to Judith, and Negan nods.

“Skipped her nap, the little shit.” He chuckles a bit. “I was fantasizing about that fucking nap.”

“I'm sure you were.” Rick quips. “She'll take a lot out of you.”

“She cheered us on during our videogames.” Carl adds. “She was getting really into it. Almost fell off the couch a couple of times.”

Rick smiles, and Negan finds his eyes lingering on the warmth in that look. “I'm not surprised. She's had a lot more energy lately.”

The conversation shifts to small talk, and eventually, Rick changes the input back to television and flips it to TruTV. Negan knows why—it's the white noise he and Rick use to talk over. Just the light in the darkness of the living room while they shoot the shit and wind down for the evening. Carl takes it as his cue to go upstairs, and Negan notices with some level of amusement that there's a lot of haste in his departure. Like he thinks things are gonna get weirder than usual or something.

And maybe they will. Truth be told, Negan isn't sure what he's going to do. Rick's a widower like him, and he's got a lot on his mind. Maybe he's not ready for all this yet. Or maybe he is, and he's just really fucking dumb to the reality of the situation. Maybe if he knew how he felt, he and Negan wouldn't just be talking over another repeated episode of Impractical Jokers.

But it somehow feels like a better move to let Rick figure this shit out for himself. And in light of recent events, Negan's got some thinking to do, too. Because, as he and Rick talk about all things great and small, Negan's starting to notice little details in the bluish light coming off the television—like how sharp Rick's eyes are even in the darkness, or how the folds of his t-shirt don't stand a chance against the outline of his chest and abdomen. The gentle lines in his face, the curve of his biceps, and even the shapes of his fingers.

He's doing a lot more looking tonight. A lot more assessing. He's curious, and he's excited, and he wishes he could just outright _say something_ , but it isn't fair to Rick. Especially not if he doesn't have his own damned ducks in a row in the first place. Negan's not typically quick to think about what's fair to others, but he supposes things can change. At least for Rick, they can change.

He keeps his shit to himself for the night, but he and Rick spend a good portion of the night talking. It's well into three in the morning before Negan shuts them down and decides Rick needs to get his candy ass to bed. Rick jokes about taking a day off, and Negan 'bullshit's him, before shoving him off toward the stairs.

\- - - - -

Morning comes with a swift impact to the stomach that has Negan flying up into a sitting position with a nice, comedic 'oof!' sound. But when he finally manages to look around and try to figure out what the fuck is going on, he finds himself with a lapful of Judith, giggling as if she hadn't just plopped down onto his stomach. Next to the couch stands Carl, who can't keep the smile off his face.

“She wanted to jump.” He shrugs. “I can't tell her no.”

Negan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? She might also want to bite your fucking fingers off later. Should I let her?”

Carl raises both hands and walks off. Negan scoops Judith up and moves to stand. “Let's get you some breakfast. What is there, anyway?”

“Cereal.” Rick's still in his pajamas, so it must still be somewhat early. He looks tired as hell. “That, or oatmeal.” They both ignore the noise of disgust Carl makes at the mention of oatmeal.

Negan pours two bowls of cereal—one for himself and one for Judith. “I got work today, so you'll have to have someone watch Judith.”

Rick scoffs. “You her babysitter now? Don't worry about it, I got it covered. My son used to be on that team—I know when practices are.”

Something twists in Negan's gut there, and he looks up from placing the bowls on the table. “You know I got nothing against your kid, Rick.”

“I know.” The answer comes so quickly that it's a little surprising. “You did it for the team. Carl doesn't care, so I don't. Not anymore. No offense taken.”

Negan remembers how irritated Rick had been with him on the day he'd come to confront him. In fact, it had been that attitude that had propelled the decision to start visiting him. Rick looked like your straight-shooting good southern boy with his morals all in the right place, but he had a fire.

And that fire still burns. Negan catches it in little moments like this one—moments that remind him that he's not just dealing with the angry father of a kid being kicked off of the baseball team, but he's dealing with Rick fucking Grimes, and he likes that. Rick's been the only one aside from his late wife to take Negan's games and play them right back in his face. He never knows what to expect, and that's exciting.

“Fair enough.” Negan shrugs, then sits down and starts eating. “You working late again tonight?” Yes, he's aware of just how domesticated these questions sound. He doesn't care. Rick apparently doesn't, either.

“Don't think so.” Rick answers around a bite of Fruity Pebbles. “There's no tellin' what's gonna happen when I get there, though.” He turns his focus to Carl. “Go ahead and come home after school. I'll pick Judith up after work.”

Carl nods, but doesn't answer. He's about halfway through his bowl of cereal, and it looks like he's going to end up getting seconds.

After breakfast, Rick gets dressed, and he tasks Negan with helping Judith put her clothes on. It takes some effort—the girl wriggles around like one of those fucking waving tube men at a car dealership—but he manages. He's gonna leave doing something with her hair to Rick, though, so he just gathers her up in his arms, snags a couple ponytail holders, and makes his way back downstairs. By the time he gets there, everyone else is dressed.

“No wonder you gave me the job of dressing her.” Negan says, passing the toddler and hairbands to Rick. As he sets Judith down on the counter and starts fiddling with her hair, Negan continues. “She's like those weird water-filled snake things from the nineties. Just kept slipping through my damn fingers.”

“It's an art.” Rick points out. “You'll master it.”

“I'll be out in the car.” Carl announces, and Rick tosses him the keys.

“So you're gonna watch her on your days off, then?” Rick asks, and Negan offers a shrug.

“For now.” He answers. “I like it here—the drive's fifty times less bullshit than from my place, and I get to pick on this little girl all day.” He tickles Judith's neck and the girl squirms and bursts out laughing. Just in time for Rick to finish pulling her hair back, she throws her arms out and dives for Negan, who catches her expertly.

“Alright, I'll take it. I'll put more food in the cabinets as payment.” Rick gives Negan time to give Judith a hug, before he takes his daughter back and starts toward the door.

“Deal. But get the good shit. If I see one box of offbrand macaroni and cheese in this fucking cabinet, so help me God, Rick—“

“—Roger that, Negan.” Rick laughs, and Negan swallows down a tightness in his throat. “Have a good day at work.”

He's not sure what's changed from all that mental monologuing last night, but suddenly, he doesn't feel like waiting. Hell, he doesn't think he can even go the work day before he opens his mouth. Now just feels like the right time, even though every other sign points to it being the most inconvenient time to say anything. But Negan suddenly feels like he's full to bursting, and he can't help himself.

The door is just inches from being shut before Negan catches it in his fingers and wrenches it open again. He watches Rick stumble back in an almost humorous display of trying to keep himself and his daughter balanced and not lose his arm holding onto the doorknob. The end result is a pair of very dumbfounded eyes gawking up at him, and Negan has to bite back an amused laugh.

“...What?” Rick asks, and Negan can hear the discomfort in his voice, probably because the proximity between them is no bigger than the doorway, and Judith is waiting patiently beside them, holding her father's hand. So the only thing between them is air right now. Negan likes the way Rick tenses, and the sharp edge of frustration to his voice.

“Your son said something interesting to me yesterday.” Negan's still holding onto the door by the wood, and Rick has yet to release the knob, so they're in a sort of standoff, Rick standing his ground and staring up at Negan, while Negan towers over him, that shit-eating grin ever-present on his lips. “Seems our stepchild might be under the impression that you're getting real sweet on me.”

Rick doesn't respond, and Negan doesn't blame him. He looks horrified, as if Negan had just told him Carl had gotten kicked out of school or Judith had knocked out a tooth. He glubs silently like a grounded fish seeking out water, but nothing comes out.

So Negan continues. He leans in close, so he can speak more quietly. “I think he's right. But you gotta be the one to decide, Rick. Throw me a fucking bone, already.” And then he backs up and rocks onto his heels a bit. “Can you believe I stole that one from your son? Fan-fucking-tastic! Kid looked like green jello last night when he realized what he said.”

And then he shuts the door, deciding it's time for a very, very hot shower before work. He whistles as he makes his way up the stairs.

Truth be told, that shit was hard as _fuck_ to bring up. But it's kind of like the uncomfortable tension before a sneeze—you know you need to do it, it feels way better once you've finally done it. And now that it's out there and it's Rick's problem, Negan can focus on the rest of his day.

There's a certain level of anxiety still lingering, though. Negan doesn't wear it on his sleeve, but he isn't impervious to second thoughts. He does feel some level of concern over whether Rick is going to receive the information he was given well or not. But for the most part, he's confident in his observation thus far, so he resolves to brush it off his shoulder and just see what Rick does.

Today is going to be a good day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I wear this shit out in my responses to comments in notes throughout the fic, but I literally cannot express how grateful for the wonderful reception of this work I am. You all have been so incredibly nice and encouraging, and it's been a long time since I have felt this welcome in a fanbase. You are all so very wonderful, and even though the short length of this fic makes it sound silly, I couldn't do this without you. Thank you so, so very much.


	6. Rick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rick figures his shit out.

“You're not listening to a damn word I'm saying.” Shane's voice is understandably annoyed, mostly because Rick has asked him to repeat himself twice now, and it's still not getting through to him. Shane's his best friend, but Rick's head just isn't in the game today at all. He's trying to be attentive, but he can only multitask so much, and when his mind is on one thing and he's forced to decide between watching the passing vehicles and listening to what Shane has to say, he's gonna go with the one that doesn't cost him his job.

“I'm sorry.” Rick waves him off, because he doesn't really want to have to explain just why he's so out of it today. Not that he doesn't trust Shane, but suddenly explaining to his best friend that he might want to sleep with another guy seems a little heavy a topic for right now. “You're just gonna have to let it slide for today—I'll do better tomorrow.”

“ _Really_?” Shane's not dropping it that quickly, no surprise there. Rick figures he'd probably react the same way if the roles were reversed. “You want to at least tell me what's got you so fucked up you can't process the English language?”

“Just had a long night.” Rick isn't exactly lying. He and Negan had stayed up until the damned witching hour, and he's definitely feeling the lack of sleep. While it isn't the main reason, it's surely a contributing factor.

It's what Negan said to him on his way out. That for some reason, Carl had decided Rick was into Negan, and had taken it upon himself to tell Negan that without consulting his father first. And maybe Rick is thinking about bringing that up with his son eventually, but right now, he just can't get his head around the fact that somehow, his kid had seen something going on that Rick hadn't seen for himself.

Or well, he'd seen it, but hadn't _acknowledged_ it. It's a tough call, honestly. In Rick's defense, he's a busy man. Between parenting his children and work, he often doesn't get more than an hour or so to himself before it's time to call it a night. Or rather, he hadn't had that much time to himself before Negan had come into the picture. Now, he stays up too damned late and talks about shit that probably isn't even worth the lack of sleep, and he still can't find it in himself to regret it.

He likes to think it's Negan's fault, but it isn't like the other man forces Rick to stay up late. They just start talking, and they don't _stop_. Sometimes, Negan teases him about his mannerisms around the house, and other times, the topics are more serious. He's never tried to deny that he enjoys discussing things with Negan, even if the guy talks like he came right out of a bad porno. Negan's got a deep voice that is somehow soothing in its own right, and his eyes are sharp and almost hypnotic. It's hard to look away.

And he pulls shit on Rick, too. The jokes about the two of them being married don't bother Rick so much as the actions that follow. Negan has spent multiple times looking at him in a way that might as well have been a hand dragging across his thigh, and Rick knows it's because of the way it makes him react. He's got to keep his shock and the sparks of sensation lit up in his nerve endings to himself, and the end result is a man clearing his throat and trying desperately to pretend that the only one bothered by all this is Carl.

Yeah, it's turned him on. So have some of the things Negan has said. Rick's not going to lie to himself there. But in reality, he's honestly believed this entire time that it was just Negan's new brand of trying to get under his skin, since all the nasty comments about how he goes about his day-to-day life aren't working anymore. Rick's been telling himself that eventually, the dust would settle around those gestures and make him a little more desensitized to the whole thing, but now that Negan's brought out into the air what Carl had said, he knows that's not the case.

He doesn't know exactly when his feelings developed, but he knows that it's not just any one factor that led to it. Negan can be a real piece of shit sometimes, but he comes by it honest. He owns it, and he's charismatic about it. His body language oozes a sort of 'no regrets' mentality into everything he says and does, and Rick's both perplexed and mesmerized at the same time.

And then there's the side of Negan who shows up when Rick is his only target. When Carl and Judith go to bed and TruTV comes on and it's just the two of them, Negan relaxes, refocuses, and starts talking. The jokes never go away, but laced within them are stories that come with heart.

A month or so into Negan's self-invited visits, he had brought up how in the hell a man like Rick wasn't married, and for the first time in a long time, Rick had told the story of his wife's passing. How Lori had carried on what seemed like a perfectly healthy pregnancy, with good news every time they went in to see the doctor. How excited Carl had been to know he was going to have a baby sister. How often he and his son would sit and talk to Judith through Lori's belly.

“ _She wasn't dilating or having contractions, though, so they'd decided to try and induce labor. And it had gone well, until the actual delivery. Judith was born healthy, but before they could hand her to Lori, the nurses took her instead. There was so much blood, and even an emergency hysterectomy couldn't save her. They said she hemorrhaged to death.”_

Rick doesn't remember the way Negan looked at him that night when he'd told that story, but he does remember the hand on his shoulder, and the crestfallen voice that had murmured out, “ _Jesus shit, Rick..._ ”

And then a week later, Negan had talked about his wife. About a crazy beautiful woman he had been anything but loyal to. How he had always known she was so incredibly perfect, but he had been too greedy, too gluttonous, to give himself time to take notice. A woman he had cheated on, brushed off, disrespected, and who had still stuck by his side even through all of that. He painted a picture about the clarity learning of her diagnosis had given him. How he had realized all too late just how important she was to him. And how she had died knowing he was a worthless asshole, and how she had done so still somehow loving him despite that fact.

It had been the closest thing to heartbreak Rick had ever seen on Negan's face.

When Negan is being serious, one can make out a certain twinkle in his eye. It's as if when he's got an actual point to make, it rests in his focus—in his gaze—and even though Rick can't say for sure, he still feels like there was a point to Negan telling him about his wife. Maybe it's as simple as him just wanting to level the playing field, calling it 'even' by returning Rick's story with one of his own. Or maybe it was just his way of telling Rick he's here to stay. Because even though Rick's still got a lot to learn about Negan, he knows that you don't just say something like that and then cut and run.

It's things like this that tell Rick that Negan isn't all sarcastic remarks and dick jokes. It's funny how even though it's taken until just today for him to realize his own feelings on the situation, he can see right through Negan. The vulgar remarks are a part of his personality, and they're something Rick has long-since come to accept and even enjoy about him, but there's so much more to him than the title of 'jerk-ass baseball coach' he's gone above and beyond the call of duty to earn himself.

Hell, maybe even Negan doesn't see what Rick sees. Maybe he's completely oblivious to the way he looks at Judith, or how his pokes at Carl almost seem endearing at this point. Maybe he doesn't see how he's gone from simply inviting himself over to being a part of the family dynamic. Maybe he doesn't even see how much of an impact he's had on Rick, himself.

So yeah, maybe Rick _is_ sweet on him. It's strange, how vastly different this situation is from when he had fallen in love with Lori. Rick had known exactly what it was when he'd started to have feelings for her, but Negan's demeanor and his remarks and his general personality somehow make it harder to focus on just one aspect of him. Rick has been too busy thinking 'wow, this guy is out of his mind' and 'did he really just say that?' to process the fact that he might be attracted to him.

But now that Negan has brought it out into the air, it's _all_ he can think about. Aside from a scattered and brief reprieve offered by the occasional traffic stop, Rick is asking himself how long this has been going on, and wondering if all those joking passes Negan has made at him have actually been _real_ passes, and it all just spirals down from there.

Shane either decides to stop bitching or comes to terms with the fact that Rick is all but useless as a conversation partner for the day, because he stops trying. And now that Shane has stopped prying, Rick kind of sees where he's coming from. The day crawls by with little to no conversation, and Rick finds himself looking at the clock more than he has in a long time. Shane's kind of an asshole, but he's Rick's best friend, and they've spent many a work day passing the time on conversation alone. And now that there's no conversation, it's more than a little awkward.

He gets through it somehow though, and soon enough, he and Shane are saying their goodbyes, and then they've gone their separate ways. It doesn't take Rick long to find himself at Carol's house, and soon enough, cradling an armful of his daughter.

“How's your ankle?” Rick asks, ignoring the look on Carol's face that says she just knew Rick was going to ask her that question.

“Plenty better.” She answers simply as she slips the strap of Judith's diaper bag over Rick's free shoulder. “It's less swollen, and I'm able to walk on it. I took your friend's advice, I promise.”

“I believe you.” Rick laughs, because he remembers practically having to beg the woman to let them help her when she had gotten the injury at the grocery store. She doesn't seem to be trying to hide a wince every other step, so he really does think she's doing better. “Was she alright?” He asks, nodding to the little girl passed out in his arms.

“She was even more well-behaved than usual today.” Carol chirps with a warm smile, but the expression falters within seconds. She reaches out and tucks one of the stray curls that had fallen from her left pigtail behind her ear. “I'm starting to think she might be a little under the weather. She did a lot of sleeping today.”

Rick had been so hasty in taking Judith from Carol's arms that he hadn't paid much attention to how she looked. It's not surprising for her to be fast asleep by the time Rick comes to get her, but now that he glances down at her in his grip, she does look a little flushed. As if she can tell he's watching her, she whines a little and buries her face in his chest.

“You may be right.” Rick answers, giving his daughter one last pitiful frown before he turns his focus back up to Carol. “I'll check her temperature when we get home.”

“Will you let me know?” Carol looks genuinely concerned, and Rick finds his heart swells with appreciation for her.

“Sure thing.” He answers, sealing his promise with a smile. Carol thanks him, and then leans in to kiss Judith's forehead before she beckons the two of them away.

\- - - - -

Carol is right. Not half an hour after Rick gets home, Judith starts looking more sick. She gets restless when she isn't feeling well, so she's lying under a blanket on the couch, tossing and turning, little whines spilling from her lips. Carl has tried to make her comfortable by offering her a pillow and the rainbow-colored stuffed cow she calls Techno, but it's not doing much good.

“Tummy hurts...” She whimpers as Rick is crouching before her with a thermometer in hand. Lori had gotten a forehead thermometer as a gift at her baby shower, and Rick considers it a godsend, as he doesn't have to make little Judith move around too much. She reads high at a solid 102.4, and Rick sighs when he sees it.

“I'm sorry, baby...” He apologizes, kissing her forehead. “We're gonna make you all better as quick as we can, alright?”

Judith nods and then buries her little face underneath her blanket. Her voice is muffled as she responds with an uncomfortable “...Uh-huh.”

After Rick locates some children's ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet of the upstairs bathroom and feeds it to a very reluctant Judith, he calls Carol up to give her the news. It's as he's promising her he'll take her to the doctor if the fever doesn't get better that Negan shows up. Rick thanks her again for her help, and then moves into the living room to meet his guest.

Even with the concern for Judith twisting up Rick's gut, Negan somehow makes it twist harder. Rick hasn't forgotten what happened this morning, even if he's decided to put it on the back burner for now.

He can tell Negan knows something's wrong when Judith doesn't dive off of the couch to go meet him, and as he tosses his jacket over the free arm of the couch, he casts a confused glance in Rick's direction. “...Something wrong?”

“Judith's sick.” Carl answers from his spot on the armchair. He's rifling through channels on television, trying to find something Judith will like and everyone else can tolerate. Rick watches the way Negan's gaze goes from Judith to Carl, and then back to the little girl on the couch. His stomach flips when the other man crouches in front of her and she extends both arms out to him.

Rick doesn't know why Judith is as attached to Negan as she is, but she gravitates toward him more often than not. She loves her Daddy, but when Negan shows up, she'll climb out of his lap and beeline for the other man. Even sick, she apparently still wants his attention. It's overwhelming in the best way possible to see how Negan scoops her up and holds her to his chest as he takes a seat on the couch.

Rick loves that Negan loves his family, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that that fact alone is a big part of why he's got feelings for Negan in the first place.

Yeah, he definitely does. Rick can't help but stare at the way Negan is gathered with his kids in the living room, fitting in like he's supposed to. Judith is still restless, but she seems to feel better now that she's snuggled up against Negan. He and Carl are arguing in low voices over what to watch, and Rick just sighs. He feels like this is the way it should be.

He supposes there's no quicker way to a guy's heart than through his family.

“How long's she been like this?” Negan diverts his attention from the television as Rick takes a seat next to him.

“Not sure exactly how long.” Rick admits. “At some point while I was at work, because Carol told me she started actin' sick today while I was gone. She's been like this since we got home.”

Negan nods thoughtfully. “She feels hot.”

“Yeah, she's got a pretty bad fever.” Rick sighs. “I gave her some medicine though, so—“

“Daddy!” Judith suddenly sits bolt upright, her eyes darting wildly back and forth between Negan and Rick. She looks panicked, almost as if she doesn't know what to do. “Daddy, Daddy...”

As Rick holds his hands out to reach for his daughter, she proceeds to vomit all over both him and Negan.

“Shit!” Carl exclaims, hopping to his feet from the armchair. “I'll be right back with some towels.” The last part is drowned out by Judith's sobs as her stomach heaves again. Rick makes a mental note to caution Carl on his language later.

\- - - - -

Taking care of a sick toddler is hard work. Two-year-olds don't typically understand what being sick means, so all that discomfort and vomiting is a scary thing. Judith almost immediately devolves into a mess of bawling and puking and hyperventilating, and it takes a lot of coaxing to get her to the bathtub to wash up. As Carl is given the job of cleaning the mess off the couch, Negan and Rick have managed to convince the little girl to sit in a warm bath so they can wash her up.

Negan's shirt and both Rick's pants and shirt have suffered the brunt of the mess, so Negan is keeping watch on Judith while Rick changes into something clean. He's quick to select some loose, stretchy pajama pants and a plain T-shirt, before he clambers into them and makes his way to the upstairs bathroom, where a still-very-upset toddler glances pitifully up at her father.

Vaguely, Rick notices that Negan has taken his shirt off. He crouches next to the other man beside the tub and reaches in to brush his fingers through the girl's hair. Judith whimpers and wipes her nose with her forearm.

“Shh...It's okay, baby.” Rick coos. He can feel Negan's gaze on him as he talks to his daughter. “We're gonna get you cleaned up and then you're gonna go to bed until you feel better. It's gonna be okay, sweetie...”

Bathing a sick child is no easier than comforting one. Rick finds some heavy difficulty in convincing Judith to let him wash her up, and even as he's doing so, she's crying and snuffling and wiping at her face. It takes Negan whistling a tune Rick doesn't recognize to keep her in one place, but with some teamwork and heavy reassurance, they manage to get it done. Soon, Rick is drying Judith off while Negan seeks out pajamas for her.

She's reluctant to go to bed by herself, so Rick compromises by letting her have her television on tonight. He puts her favorite Blaze DVD in and kisses her goodnight.

“You come get me if you need me, okay?” Rick tells her, and she smiles up at him for the first time since she'd gotten home.

“Uh-huh. Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, baby.” Rick gives his daughter one last kiss on the cheek, before he and Negan leave the room. They stop just before the stairs, and Rick takes a moment to lean back against the wall and let out a sigh.

“Thank you.” He turns his head to look at Negan, just in time to see him shrug in response. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“You're the one who's gonna end up washing it.” Negan answers simply.

Rick rolls his eyes. “Along with your other laundry. You might as well live here.”

“That an invite?”

Rick tries to ignore the way his stomach does a backflip. Whether he wants it to or not, he's sure it's showing on his face. He doesn't know what to say, so he just looks back over at Negan, who bursts into laughter.

“Chill the fuck out, Rick. It was a joke.” Negan laughs again, and Rick is suddenly fighting back the urge to slug the shit out of him. Apparently, this too shows on his face, because Negan's _still_ laughing. “I had to say _something_ , because you apparently get real goddamn mopey when your kids are sick. You're welcome for lightening the mood.”

He rocks backward and grins like he always does, and Rick swallows down the desire to put him against the wall and kiss the life out of him. That damned attitude...

“How's Judy?” Carl's at the top of the stairs, Rick assumes to go back to his room.

“She'll be asleep soon.” Rick answers, glad for the distraction. “You get the couch cleaned?”

“Best I could, yeah.” He says, motioning down the stairs with his head. “It's wet from the cleaner, though. I put towels on it.”

“Thanks, son.” Rick gives his eldest child a tired smile. “Help me keep an ear out for her, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Carl nods. “Goodnight, Dad.”

It's actually still pretty early in the evening, barely scratching eight o'clock. Rick hasn't prepared supper for any of them, but he assumes Judith isn't going to want to eat, and Carl will likely raid the fridge when his stomach decides to beckon him there. He decides to do just that himself, and ends up fixing himself a bowl of cereal. As he makes his way to the towel-covered couch, he sees Negan cock an eyebrow at him.

“Really?” He teases, and Rick shrugs as he shoves a bite into his mouth. “That's your supper?”

“You're not livin' if you've never had breakfast for dinner at least once in your life.” Despite having literally just given Rick hell for his food choice, Negan goes to do the exact same thing. Unlike Negan though, Rick doesn't pick on him for it. He just leaves the other man plenty of room to sit next to him, and reaches for the remote to start their usual TruTV ritual, albeit a little early.

For a while, the living room is silent. Rick imagines it's a mix between processing all that happened in the past couple of hours and enjoying their lazy meals, but now that his daughter is safely tucked into bed and Carl is up there listening for her, he feels a little less guilty realizing that it's just himself and Negan in the same room together, and Negan's still shirtless. It isn't the first time Rick's seen him without a shirt on, but now that it's just the two of them, and in light of their talk this morning, Rick's allowing himself to think about it a little more.

And in his defense, he has kind of earned it. Negan's a huge tool for leaving him hanging like that earlier today, so Rick figures he's allowed to stare for a minute. He's never fancied himself to be into men, but Negan's attractive in an entirely different way. Somehow, the jerk even manages to _sit_ with swagger, and it's difficult not to just crawl into his lap and see what else Negan's good at.

Probably everything. This guy's got making himself look good down to an art.

“Am I gonna have to be the one to do it?” Rick's so caught up in his own thoughts that Negan's voice actually startles him, and when he looks up at the other man, he's probably gawking at him stupidly. The polar opposite of something Negan would've done. “Break the silence, I mean. You're somewhere off in fucking La-La Land, and it's been a long day, and my eyelids are getting heavier than post-pregnancy tits over here just waiting for you to say something.”

Rick bites back the desire to flip him off. “Well, you just did.” He feels where Negan's coming from, though, and as he sets his empty cereal bowl on the coffee table, he realizes just how sleepy he is. Compared to when he and Negan usually go to bed, he's a little surprised, but also not opposed to an early bedtime tonight.

“That doesn't count.” Negan frowns. “I just tasked you with saying something, Rick. Come up with something _good_.”

...Why? Maybe it's because Rick's as tired as he is, but he's not particularly feeling up to the games Negan plays. He's almost irritated, but he surprisingly doesn't let it show. Instead, he decides to give Negan exactly what he wants, and breaks the ice with something the guy has probably wanted to hear all fucking day long, up until he came home to see Judith lying sick on the couch.

“Yes.” Rick says simply, and he almost laughs at the look Negan gives him. His mouth falls open and Rick can hear the unspoken 'uhh...' that permeates the room.

“Yes, _what?_ ”

Rick shrugs, and he surprises himself with how easily it comes out. “Carl was right.”

“Excuse me?” It's like watching an internet page load, seeing how long it takes Negan to process just what Rick said. But when it does hit him, he lights up and Rick actually laughs, because the 'uhh' has quickly become an 'oh', and for once, it feels like he's caught Negan off guard.

“I _am_ sweet on you.” He clarifies, though, just for good measure. Probably doesn't come out that way around a laugh, however.

Negan laughs too. “I figured that out, idiot. But hey, about damn time you gave me an answer. Between you and me, though, I already knew.”

“I'm sure you did.” Rolling his eyes is quickly becoming commonplace for Rick when he's dealing with Negan.

“No, fuck you, don't do that shit.” Negan's laughing despite himself. “I mean it, I knew before your boy even did!”

And it's almost like nothing has happened from there. They're talking about it like it's just another discussion topic for them. Like always, TruTV plays in the background, and like always, they sit in the darkness of the living room and run their mouths like it's nothing. Rick's confession doesn't go unnoticed, but their discussion eventually shifts to girls they liked in high school, and to how much relationships change as a person enters adulthood.

It's about ten o'clock at night when the conversation finally stops. This is a night like any other night, aside from the simple fact that Judith is sick up in her room, and instead of retiring to his room once he's finished talking, Rick has fallen asleep on the couch with Negan. They're each on opposite ends of the furniture, one arm thrown over the backrest, leaning into said backrest with their heads against the cushion. They're facing one another, as if their conversation never stopped.

\- - - - -

Come morning, Judith is still sick. Rick takes the day off to keep her company. Negan apparently chooses to do the same, because he volunteers to watch Judith while Rick takes Carl to school, and then it's just the three of them at home, presumably all day long.

Rick has made Judith a little bed on the couch, and she is sucking away at a popsicle as she watches the same DVD from last night in the living room. Her cheeks are flushed and she's still a little feverish, but it's been a while since she last got sick, so Rick's going to consider it progress. He can tell she still doesn't feel good, going by how she doesn't want to move from the couch, and she's turned away any and every food and drink except for the popsicles.

She's winding back down into one of her spells of sleep after Rick has managed to talk her into some more ibuprofen for the fever, humming the song playing on the show as she drifts off. Nearby, Negan has made himself comfortable on the armchair. Rick sighs as he exits the kitchen.

“She hasn't eaten in almost a day, now.” He observes aloud, and Negan nods. “Maybe it's time to get her into the doctor.”

“She's fine in here with me.” Negan points out. “Call the doctor and see what they say. I'll go with you guys if she needs to go.”

Negan has made himself and Rick inseparable, and if he's being completely honest, Rick doesn't mind it. He's long-since accepted that he liked having him around, and considering that Judith is probably going to be doing the exact same thing she's doing right now in that doctor's office, he could probably use the extra company.

Contrary to that idea, however, the doctor tells Rick for now to just focus on keeping Judith hydrated—that an appointment won't be necessary unless she starts showing other symptoms or starts vomiting again. Rick isn't crazy about that answer, though, and it shows when he walks into the living room once more scratching the back of his head.

Apparently, Negan picks up on his nervousness right away. “Well?”

“Doctor says there isn't much they can do any better than we can do here.” Rick answers, shooting his daughter a concerned look. “He suggested Pedialyte.”

“I'll go get some.” Negan answers so quickly that Rick's heart warms and it generates a feeling that makes him wonder if he's going to start puking, too.

And Negan does. He comes back with a few different colored bottles of the stuff and some canned soup, and he makes her a sippy cup of the super sweet drink almost immediately upon arrival. It's all Rick can do to watch with amazement as Negan does so. He doesn't wake the sleeping Judith to make her drink right away—just places the cup in her arms right alongside Techno.

Rick wonders how concerned about his daughter Negan himself is.

Either way, Judith is fast asleep, so once he's finished, Rick isn't surprised to see Negan enter the kitchen alongside him. He watches as the taller man moves to fix himself a drink. There's a silence, before Negan clears his throat and speaks up.

“She's gonna be fine, Rick.” He reassures, before taking a swig of lemonade. “She's probably just got a bug.”

That obvious, huh? Rick nods. “I know. It's just...” He scratches the back of his head. “This is the first time Judith's been sick like this. I can handle the colds and all, but when Carl got like this, Lori was usually the one takin' care of him...” He almost feels guilty, and after seeing Judith look so tired and needy, he kind of wishes he had been there for Carl, too. “I don't know how she did it.”

Negan shrugs and leans against the sink. “I don't know shit about your wife aside from what you've told me, but I'm sure she just...y'know, _did it._ You don't go into something like this knowing exactly what the fuck to do. Sometimes, you gotta screw the pooch a little before you figure your shit out.” Negan cracks his neck as he scoots closer and gives Rick a small nudge. An attempt at reassurance, Rick guesses. “She didn't know what she was doing at first, either. I didn't know her, but I can guaran-damn-tee she didn't just come out of the womb knowing what to do when her kid started puking.”

Rick cracks a small smile. “Well, they did give her one of those 'What to Do When Your Child is Sick' books before she left the hospital.”

Negan shoves him. “Smartass.”

It's the grin afterward that does it. Rick looks up at Negan just in time to see one of those big smirks the man wears all the fucking time, but with something else. A weight, or a knowledge, or even a warmth. Rick can't exactly place it, but it hits him so hard that it knocks away any reservations he might have thought he had at one point. He takes a step, moving to stand in front of the much taller Negan, and snatches the lemonade from his hand.

Negan is here to stay. He's been here to stay even when he'd shown up the first time. He's a pain in the ass, but he's so, so _important_ to this family. Judith adores him, and he's growing on Carl, and Rick _needs_ him. Rick _loves_ him.

He takes a drink of Negan's lemonade, and then sets the glass on the counter. He allows himself just barely enough time to swallow the liquid, before he's got a hand on the back of Negan's neck and is pulling him down for a kiss.

It feels so much different than any amount of preparation would have gotten Rick ready for. Lori's lips were soft and plump and her skin was smooth against his own, but this...it's nothing like that. The first thing Rick notices is the scratch of Negan's beard on his cheek, and it's just a stark reminder that this is Negan, and he _likes_ that. He doesn't know what he expected Negan to do, but he can feel the other man leaning into the kiss, and as their heads tilt and their lips part, Rick can feel himself getting more and more blown away by this guy with each passing second.

Negan kisses like he does everything else. There's an attitude to his movements, and a confidence in the way he cups the side of Rick's face and curls his other arm around his waist. Rick's all but useless in his arms, and goddamn if that isn't mind-blowing to him.

When they finally come apart, Rick just knows he looks ridiculous. He knows his eyes are hazy and he's probably got some embarrassingly dreamy look on his face, and he's already well aware of the fact that Negan is going to throw that right in his face long before the man actually opens his mouth and does exactly that.

“Jesus on a triscuit, Rick.” Negan laughs, though Rick catches an edge of something to his voice, too. “It doesn't take much to get you going, does it?”

“Shut up.” Rick growls, before he kisses him again.

For a while, they're just gone, making out like horny teenagers in the kitchen. At some point, Negan has turned the tables and has Rick pinned up against the counter, a knee between his legs and his mouth on his neck. Rick is trying to keep quiet because his daughter is _right there,_ and that's when he decides they need to take this elsewhere if it's going to keep escalating. Very reluctantly, Rick breaks their heated contact and nods past the living room, toward the stairs.

“My room.” He manages amongst a husky exhale, before he starts on shaky legs out of the kitchen. He passes by the living room, where Judith is fast asleep, blissfully unaware for the moment of any illness, and Rick gives himself a moment to smile warmly at the thought, before he starts up the stairs.

And it's all downhill from there. Rick lets Negan shove him toward his bed, and the minute his back hits the mattress, he's greeted to a whole bunch of Negan on top of him. Rick contemplates amusing himself with the observation that this is the longest he thinks Negan has gone without popping off and saying something, but Negan's got a hand on the crotch of his pants all of a sudden, and that simple gesture of palming him through the material has him speechless.

How long has it been since Rick even had sex? His heart hasn't exactly been in it since Lori's death, so it goes without saying that he's a fucking mess already. He can feel himself getting hard, and the press of it against the rough motions of Negan's fingertips tears a moan from his lips. He's embarrassed when he feels the vibration of Negan's husky chuckle against the crook of his neck.

“Hot damn...” Negan's breath his hot and heavy and _such a turn-on_ against Rick's skin. “I just started performing, and you're already trying to give me a standing ovation. Fuck, Rick...”

Rick wants to tell Negan to shut up, but he can't bring himself to. Negan seems to be trying to make damn sure to keep him from saying anything, because now he's got both hands in the back of Rick's pants and is giving his ass a squeeze, before he tugs the article down and off completely, boxers and all.

Somewhere amidst all of this, Negan's gotten his hands on some sort of lubricant, because between all the heated kisses and the heaving and panting of their lungs, Negan's got two fingers curled deep inside Rick, and whoa, if that shit doesn't feel good.

“You done this before?” Rick questions, because while he has a general idea where the dick goes in gay sex, Negan is already playing him like a fiddle and there's no way he can be this good at _everything_.

“Gonna take that as a fucking compliment.” Negan growls and sinks his teeth into Rick's neck, just underneath the jaw, sucking hard as he pulls his fingers out of him. Rick realizes in the absence of his partner's fingers that Negan's got far more clothes on than him, and he's quick to help him out of his pants and shirt.

There's a moment of silent fumbling, as Negan hefts Rick's legs up and settles between them. He slicks his cock up in seconds, and then he's pushing in hard and deep, and Rick can't stop his head from falling back, because _wow_ , that is a new kind of sensation. Negan fills him up just right, and he's taking his time helping Rick to adjust, which makes him feel even more like their bodies fit together perfectly.

“God _damn_ , Rick Grimes...” Negan praises, and Rick swears it sounds more like he's actually just moaning his name. “You're so fucking tight. Fuck...”

And then they're just moving. Negan's thrusts are rough and deliberate, but somehow so slow at the same time, and for a while, Rick just lets himself come undone. It's so nice to feel this damned good, and Rick's going to allow himself a moment of vulnerability if not for the sake of _holy hot damn, Negan's fucking him so good._

Faintly, he can hear Negan's panting voice going on and on about how perfect he looks from all the way up there, but he can't manage much more than heavy breathing, and the occasional grunt of Negan's name. But at some point, Negan comments about how good Rick is being, all lying down on his back for him, and he can't help himself. In a matter of seconds, he's got his arms around Negan's neck, and they're flipping around.

Don't even _begin_ to ask him how he does it without separating their bodies, but he manages. In any case, he's now atop Negan, and he's fucking down onto him, and holy _hell_ , that feels good. Somewhere within all the harsh waves of pleasure and slick, sweaty movements of their bodies in unison, Rick manages a smirk that may or may not be mocking one of Negan's, and he looks down on him with hazy blue eyes.

“Well shit,” he pants, trying to bite back another moan, “it really _does_ look nicer from up here.”

He notices how different the control varies between himself and Negan. While Negan's focus had been on the way he moved, and how best to make Rick lose his mind in pleasure, Rick's is more on closeness. He wants more contact, more kissing, more _Negan_ , and he's drinking it up in kisses and nails grazing across his chest and his stomach and his arms, until he finds Negan's hands. Their fingers lace, and Rick can't help but think about how good their hands feel together.

Negan's got his own level of control from beneath Rick, too. Rick feels it in the rough upward snapping of his hips to meet his own movements, and god, if it isn't the best feeling. It's only a matter of time before they're both at their limit, and Rick's the first to go. It's the tightening of his entire body that pulls Negan over along with him, and for several seconds, they're a mess of frantically bucking hips and mouths tangling desperately together.

And then they stop, and Rick pulls back. He sits up, and looks down. He can feel the flush on his face, and his chest is heaving with exertion. He wants nothing more than to flop down in this bed next to Negan and just stay there, but he knows he needs to check on Judith soon. She doesn't sound like she's moving around any downstairs, but Rick and Negan haven't exactly been quiet enough to listen for the past several moments.

So, Rick gets started on cleaning up and getting dressed. As he pulls his pants back on, he casts a glance at Negan, who hasn't gotten up from the bed yet. Instead, he's lying on his back with his head turned toward Rick, just smirking.

“...What's that look for?” Rick can't help himself, and he flinches under the weight of the booming laughter that follows.

“I have a look?” Negan shakes his head, and then finally pushes himself up to start getting dressed too. “Well shit, didn't realize. 'Scuse the fuck outta me.”

“You're lookin' straight at me with that shit-eatin' grin on your face.”

And the shit-eating grin is back. “Huh. Guess I've just been kind of wracking my brain trying to figure out how you'd come out of the 'I want to fuck you, Negan' closet. Didn't expect you'd do it by getting straight to the fucking point—literally. Not that I mind. Shit, gimme a second and I'll be ready for you to get your point across again, but...damn, Rick.”

“I told you last night, though.” Rick notices how the grin that follows that explanation almost looks lopsided—like even Negan hadn't expected to end up like this. And damn, if that isn't the most stupidly attractive thing he's seen. Mister Charisma himself, getting all flabbergasted like that. That's one for the yearbook. Rick can't stop himself from moving in to kiss that sideways grin right off those lips, and Negan's all for it too. His breath catches in his throat as he realizes just how much he loves the way their mouths move together, and he forces himself to pull away.

\- - - - -

Judith seems a little better come that afternoon. She wakes up in time for some chicken noodle soup, and once they're certain she's going to keep that down, they offer her some crackers. Her fever breaks around three, and even though she's still complaining of a stomachache, Negan and Rick manage to convince her to let them join her on the couch. She allows them to, only under the condition that she gets to sit right smack dab in the middle of them.

She seems unafraid to giggle at the shows on Nick Jr., which is a relief. Rick's glad to see that she's starting to look a little more like herself, and he sends Carol a quick text message to let her know that Judith is doing much better.

When Carl gets home from school, it's to Negan and Rick sitting next to one another, Judith fast asleep in both their laps, and Negan cursing at the videogame he's playing.

“ _Seriously_?” Carl demands, and Rick opens his mouth to speak, but Carl motions to Negan before he can, looking genuinely irritated. “You were supposed to wait for me before you continued, asshole!”

Rick raises a finger to his lips, shushing his son, who actually acknowledges his request upon seeing Judith in the two men's laps. He winces, and whispers a quick apology. And then, he snatches the controller from Negan, plops down on the armchair, and makes rapid work of getting past the part Negan was having so much trouble with.

Rick just laughs, and then sighs pleasantly. The dynamic is so much more different from how it was when he was with Lori, but it doesn't feel out of place. It's almost like it's exactly what they need, and even if Negan's a big jerk with an accidental penchant for teaching his kids curse words, he's Rick's big jerk, and Rick silently hopes Negan realizes he's not going anywhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it doesn't mean much since it's not a very long fic, but this is the first chaptered fanfiction I've finished since 2010. For me, that means a lot. I couldn't do it without all the encouragement and praise you all have given me. 
> 
> I absolutely love this pairing, and the fanbase behind it is full of such wonderful people. Thank you guys so much for everything. <3 I hope you've enjoyed this read as much as I have writing it!


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